


debt eventually paid (through unconventional means)

by higgity_heck



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: (on caleb's part), Banter, Constructive Criticism Welcome, Eventual Get Together, Flirting, Friends to Lovers, Introspection, Kissing, Learning to Dance, M/M, Overthinking, Party, Rating May Change, Ship Tease, Shopping, Slow Burn, Sparring, aborted declarations of love, didn't mean to fall in love, disabled!essek, dunamancy is fantasy quantum mechanics, fancy ball, inaccurate approximations of kryn culture, ish, mentioned Beaujester, workaholic!essek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-27
Updated: 2019-11-06
Packaged: 2020-10-29 04:28:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 35,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20790644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/higgity_heck/pseuds/higgity_heck
Summary: A clamour of voices erupted.“We’re invited to a ball? Do we get to buy fancy-”“Why are you having a ball-”“We are the worst people you could’ve invited.”(or, the Nein are invited to a ball, and Essek doesn't seem happy about the whole idea of a ball to begin with. Caleb wants to know what's up, because of course he does)





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> hey guys, here's the start of what is hopefully a multi-chapter shadowgast fic. I have the whole thing planned out, and look forward to sharing it with you - let's go!

As a general rule, it was the role of the Mighty Nein to contact Essek Thelyss first. Not that he made a point to avoid them, of course; it just so happened that there were many situations in which the Nein required his help, and not so many in which he required theirs. Even in regard to his and Caleb’s continued Dunamancy lessons, generally they occurred sporadically, when they had asked for his presence and he had a few hours to spare teaching sacred magic to a human from the Empire of all people. But that didn’t matter; it was fine, it was great, everybody was happy with this arrangement.

It was this rule of thumb that made it particularly odd for him to turn up unannounced at the Xhorhaus looking thoroughly irritated.

Not that it would’ve been easy to tell to most people – Caleb chalked it up to the considerable time he had spent poring over tomes with the man that he could tell he was out of sorts at all. But the small signs were there: the perpetually amused look was gone, replaced by a slightly furrowed brow, and his jaw was rigidly set such that he looked less effortlessly composed than usual.

“Essek?”

A short sigh escaped the man’s lips. “Good evening, Mr Widogast. I apologise for my unannounced arrival; I must speak with you all. May I?”

Caleb complied, stepping aside to let him breeze through the door towards the smell of food and general sounds of commotion emanating from the kitchen. Wincing as the chimes clanged loudly against the door when it closed, he followed.

As had become the habit, the others assembled in the kitchen for dinner, a wonderfully haphazard event of many hands working on the same task. It actually made it more difficult to make the meal – the time Beau accidentally stabbed Caduceus with a kitchen knife would attest to that – but the unspoken agreement was that it was more about the people than the food. Somehow, the hubbub quietened when Essek entered, which Caleb considered a miracle within itself.

“Essek!” Jester cried, rushing over and wrapping her arms around his middle. He made a sound like his ribs were being crushed, because they probably were, and gently pried her arms away.

“Have you come for dinner? We’ll probably have extra,” Caduceus called from the other side of the room, through about five other people.

“I’m quite alright,” Essek responded stiffly. Both Caduceus and Jester turned to peer at him immediately, keen eyes and ears sensing something was off. Simultaneously, they scanned Essek and flicked their gazes towards Caleb behind him, as if _he_ had any idea what was going on. It wasn’t often that any suggestion of real emotion seeped through the Shadowhand’s air of effortless perfection – to be able to tell at all that something was wrong was a feat, but to glean why? Nigh on impossible. Caleb just shrugged minutely in answer.

“Well, how can we help you?” Fjord offered politely, being the only person in the room with good social skills.

“If you’re looking for Caleb, he’s standing right there,” Nott said, extremely helpfully.

Ahead of him, Essek opened his pocket dimension with a neat snap of his wrist, retrieving an envelope between two long fingers. A flick of those fingers and the neatly-folded parchment went sliding across the kitchen table, probably with more force than necessary.

“An official invitation, on behalf of the Bright Queen,” Essek began, “to the yearly Coronation Ball.”

A beat of silence hung in the air, and many things began at once – Jester squealing, Fjord groaning and pressing his forehead to the table, and Caduceus’s typical, ‘Ah, that’s nice.’

“We’re invited to a _ball_? Do we get to buy fancy-”

“Why are you having a ball-”

“We are the worst people you could’ve invited.”

Essek simply weathered the sudden onslaught of voices, holding up a hand as he waited for quiet instead of asserting himself as he usually would. Interesting.

When the commotion gradually deescalated, he continued. “In light of your contributions to the Dynasty’s cause, you have been granted special invitation to the Inaugural Commemoration Ball. There will be a standard of dress _and_ of behaviour, so yes, Jester, you’ll be required to wear formal attire.”

Jester squealed, while Fjord deflated further in his seat. For a moment, the hard set to Essek’s jaw seemed to relax at the odd sight.

From the kitchen doorframe, Caleb frowned in consideration. “What about the war? Will this not be an expensive distraction?”

Grey eyes slid from the group towards him, locking him in place and freezing the air in his lungs without the use of any spell. A peculiar feeling washed over him, like suddenly they were entirely alone in the room, if not the entire city. But when Essek spoke, he again responded to the group.

“My associates believe that it would be good for morale to continue to observe the important occasions in our calendar, in spite of the war. The consensus is that soldiers who have had the chance to celebrate and relax with their families will be reinspired to fight.”

The others nodded in consideration, though their attention seemed to be firmly taken by the invitation and the stew Caduceus was handing out to the huddle around Jester as she read from it.

It was a reasonable belief; Caleb could understand the logic of wanting to boost morale even in times of war. But there was something about Essek’s wording that struck him as odd, as odd as the strange mood he seemed to be in.

“Your associates have sound beliefs. But what do _you_ think?” He questioned, lowering his voice even if he was sure the others had completely forgotten they were even there.

Essek cocked an eyebrow, a gesture that was somehow intimate and private in a room full of people. _Good, _it said. _You clued on. I thought you would._

“I follow the lead of the Queen and the senior members of her council, of course,” he responded vaguely. “However, I personally would prefer to dedicate more time to the war effort. But you didn’t hear that from me, the same way I’ve never even discussed dunamancy with you.”

“Of course not,” Caleb responded, unable to hide his shy grin before it had spread across his face. Mentally, he congratulated himself for being able to read the Shadowhand even before he had said anything. “I take it the ball is a necessary burden of your position, rather than a feature?”

Essek sighed heavily through his nose. “Indeed. I spend half of my time gathering intel to benefit my people and my queen, and the other half organising security for distant nobles to get safely drunk on a weeknight. If I am honest, I attempt to diplomatically get out of it every year. I have not succeeded thus far.”

Again, Caleb couldn’t control his soft huff of laughter, and silently thanked whoever was listening that he wasn’t involved with the bureaucracy of any government. At the table, Jester had finished reading from the invitation, and a new clamour of voices surged.

“Next month?” Jester said, open mouth creating a perfect ‘o.’ “How am I supposed to put together an entire outfit in a month?”

Through a mouthful of stew, Nott countered, “To be fair, we were off fighting demons about three days ago. I don’t think even express postage can get to a dank cave in the Empire too quickly.”

“Where are we even supposed to get fancy dresses and whatever, though?”

“I can give you a list of locations, if you would like,” Essek interjected, suddenly reminding the others that he was actually still there. “The tailor I went to was exceptionally quick; you should be ready in plenty of time, Ms Lavorre.”

“You’re coming too! I’m sure you will look very handsome,” she gasped, framing her face with her hands and batting her eyelashes at him. She got a raised eyebrow in return.

“I do try my best.”

She giggled, and with another snap of the wrist a quill and parchment appeared in his hands. A single strand of impeccable hair fell in front of his face as he scratched down names and addresses, the rest of the group returning their attention to the invitation and each other. Caleb lingered, though. Something still seemed odd. Alright, so he disliked organising a yearly event – that was more than understandable. But he didn’t seem like the type to hate socialising, and he looked too nice all the time to hate dressing up for a night out.

_You might just be biased in that last_ _regard, _a part of him said. That part was quickly silenced and pushed aside. _And why do you suddenly care so much about how Essek feels? _Another part of him said, which was also told to shut up and fuck off.

With a small flourish, Essek handed over the parchment to Jester, startling Caleb out of his reverie. A quick scan of the room indicated nobody had noticed him essentially staring at Essek. Or at least he hoped so.

“Is there any other business you are here on, or have you been delegated the position of, ah, errand boy?” He asked.

“What, trying to be rid of me so quickly?” He countered, dragging Caleb into the dance they seemed to do through every conversation. But he was quickly learning the steps.

“No, not at all. Simply wondering if you’ve any other motives or have simply decided to, to grace us with your presence for a few extra minutes.”

A soft chuckle. “Perhaps I just wished to watch the spectacle,” Essek said, gesturing towards the boisterous conversation that had erupted as the others passed around the invitation. “But no, I’ve no other business. I’ll have a meeting to attend shortly regardless, so I’ll have to take my leave.”

“Let me walk you out,” Caleb offered, hoping they could slip out fairly unnoticed – sometimes Jester was both too perceptive and too nosy for anybody’s good. Especially not for Caleb, now that she started giggling every time he spoke to Essek.

Wincing again at the loud _clang_ of the wind chimes, Caleb half closed the door behind him in some poor imitation of privacy. Never mind the entire street of people that could potentially spy on what he hoped could be a more confidential conversation.

“Essek, may I ask you a more, ah, personal question?”

The other man started slightly, already having half turned around to leave. He fixed him with a curious gaze, stepping closer than what was probably strictly necessary.

“I might be amenable. What is it?”

“Why do you dislike the ball so much? You put in all this effort; would you not want to reap the benefits?”

There was a long beat of silence, in which Essek’s gaze flicked to the side and Caleb was left with the uncomfortable realisation that he has just inadvertently stuck his foot in his mouth.

“I fail to recognise what relevance this has to anything, Mr Widogast,” Essek responded flatly; but a moment later he seemed to backtrack, and his voice softened. “Do not concern yourself with it. You and your friends will have a perfectly enjoyable night, I’m sure.”

Taken aback slightly by the sudden verbal whiplash, Caleb could only nod. The moment dragged on, tinged slightly with the fog of awkwardness, before Essek sighed and offered the smallest of smirks. “I am sure you have other things to worry about, other than my own dislike of important annual events. Like your friends eventually wondering where you are, and if I’ve finally decided to kidnap you for ransom.”

As if on cue, Jester called out, “_Cay_-leb! What are you _do-_ing out there?”

_Back to business as usual, all odd behaviour and awkward conversations aside._

“Uh, _ja_. I had better get back in there, before they start coming up with theories as to what exactly we’re talking about,” Caleb eventually said.

“Naturally. I know your blue friend starts giggling every time I enter the room; we wouldn’t want to add any more fuel to the fire, would we?” Essek asked, though the sharp glint in his eyes and the curve of his lips suggested he wanted nothing more than to play with fire. Caleb held his gaze for exactly three and a half seconds longer than propriety dictated was necessary or appropriate.

“No. Of course not.”

Essek let the moment linger, even though the noise from inside was becoming more and more insistent. The artificial stars of Rosohna faded into the background, creating an out-of-focus halo around Essek’s silver-spun hair.

Sudden footsteps in the hall shattered the moment, Caleb springing away a millisecond before Jester slammed the door open. Miraculously, it didn’t break under her sheer exuberance.

“_Caleb_. I don’t care if you are kissing out here, we need your input on when we go shopping for clothes. Essek, thank you for your time, you are very handsome, but we need you to leave now.”

With strength that had come to be unsurprising, she grabbed Caleb by the too-thin shoulders, marching him around and through the door.

“I’ll see you later?” Caleb called over his shoulder, catching a brief glimpse of Essek’s amused expression.

“Of course. Good afternoon, Caleb.”

With that, the door closed behind them, and he was obscured from sight.


	2. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Caleb gets some 'practical experience', and Essek engages in some therapeutic complaining. Caleb gets an answer, and it's not quite what he expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter length consistency? i dont know her

There weren’t very many memories from his youth that Caleb could look back on with fondness – in truth, the most innocent of mental souvenirs would often lead down a dark path of guilt and regret. It was something he tended to avoid thinking about.

But there was something, from earlier, when his world was just his parents and his friends and the confines of his town. He would remember the older children, dancing around each other in eager hesitation, tyrannizing and sniping at and picking on each other in ways that seemed both harsh and intimately special. He would ask his parents why they did that, and they would just laugh, promising to explain it to him when he was older.

The memory rose unbidden to the forefront of his mind, as he watched Jester and Beau beat the shit out of each other in the training room. As confusing as he found it that they seemed to like fighting for fun, he was impressed; they had all come so far, even he could see the difference in their fighting abilities since the last time that had practiced on each other. Beau was a blurred flurry of fists and staff, so quick he wanted to test how fast she could move if he hasted her. And Jester, adorable Jester, who looked utterly terrifying charging towards Beau with a weaponised piece of confectionary. A _thwack_, and Beau went flying across the room, before she rolled and managed to spring back to her feet, grinning up at Jester.

Sighing amusedly, Caleb went back to the book Essek had loaned him. He was just getting to the part about quantum mechanics in the study of dunamancy.

_The many-minds theory, alternatively, suggests that the distinction between realities is not physical, but in the mind of the beholder – that is, all realities coexist at all times, and it is only the sentient observer that distinguishes between these realities based on observation. _

“-leb?”

_This poses interesting implications for the concept of echoes in dunamancy, in that alternate versions of oneself are not ‘summoned’ from another timeline, but instead the sentient observer is capable of now temporarily processing both realities. However, the lack of empirical evidence- _

“Caleb!”

He started violently, suddenly ripped out of his hyperfocus as a voice finally pierced his consciousness. Disoriented, he quickly scanned the room – Jester and Beau had ceased throwing hands, and now lay on the floor together laughing about something; Nott stood at the door, hands on her hips, fixing him with that fondly exasperated look she got sometimes; and just behind her, regal as ever, was Essek.

“He gets very into his books, he’s very clever,” Nott boasted aside to Essek. “Caleb! Essek’s here, he says you were expecting him.”

He jolted to his feet and tucked his book under his arm, striding across the room while still being careful to avoid stepping on Jester’s fingers.

“Any reason they’ve decided to beat each other up, or is it just for fun?” Essek asked as he approached, glancing between him and Nott.

“Fun and practice,” Nott responded. “I believe there are some ‘intricate rituals’ involved though, if you catch my drift.”

“Of course.” It was impressive that he managed to look only slightly confused.

“They’ll sort themselves out eventually.”

Stopping in the doorway, Caleb took the moment of distraction to just observe. From the sudden defensiveness and awkwardness, to the tenseness that had covered Essek like a fog, the exchange from the other day continued to vex him. Never mind that the whole thing, inconsequential as it could very easily be, had refused to leave his mind since.

The tight set of his shoulders remained, that much remained, but other than that he just seemed… _tired_. Sure, being the left hand of the Bright Queen wouldn’t be a walk in the park, but the slight bags under his eyes were a stark difference to his generally immaculate appearances. Interesting.

Essek’s attention flickered from Nott, grey eyes meeting Caleb’s own.

“And what of you, Widogast? Any burning desire to start battering your friends?”

Desperately, he pushed away the memory of demons whispering into his mind, telling him to light them up pretty. _Not the time, never the time._ “I can’t say I see the appeal. I’ll stick to reading about quantum mechanics, thank you.”

Essek huffed a gentle laugh, nodding slightly towards the book under his arm.

“It’s an excellent resource – though I must say, I am curious to observe your own prowess for myself. I haven’t seen you in action.”

Caleb blanched, eyes widening infinitesimally. _He wants to see. I can’t hurt them_. The moment stretched on in silence, just beginning to ventuere into awkward, before Nott’s protective senses kicked into gear.

“Well, it’s not something he _needs_ to do, he’s very clever, and we’d rather keep the collateral damage to a–”

“You’re hesitant to risk hurting them, I understand,” he interrupted, the eye contact never flickering or breaking. “But you know the extent of my own arcane abilities. I am very interested to discover personally how you might use them on myself, rather than your friends. We’ll stop before it gets too serious.”

Caleb managed a weak laugh. “And here I was believing you considered us friends, after all these months.”

Essek’s lips curved upwards at the corners, but he offered no other acknowledgement, instead waiting for an answer. In some small bid for time, his gaze flickered over the forms of Jester and Beau on the floor, still giggling about something, then to Nott beside him. Her features twisted in brief uncertainty, then she gave him an encouraging nod. _He’ll be able to stop you, _it said. _Just in case._

“_Ja_, alright, _ja_,” he finally managed, and the smallest of smiles graced Essek’s features. Nott darted into the training room, shaking the two in there and cajoling them into moving to the side of the room. Caleb and Essek walked – and floated, respectively – to the centre of the room, Caleb stopping momentarily to hand his book to Nott, who took it and one of his hands in her own.

“You’ll be okay, won’t you?” She murmured, her eyes still trained on Essek.

“_Ja_, it will be fine. Besides, he is very good at what he does; I trust him.”

Quick as a flash, Nott flicked her attention to him and fixed him with a scrutinizing look.

“His abilities. I trust– I trust, ah, his skill,” Caleb finished, words tumbling over one another in haste. _Obviously, I don’t trust him, we don’t know anything about him or his motives._

“Right.”

Jerkily, he nodded, and spun on his heel to march back to the centre of the space, absently flipping through his spellbook as he went. From the corner of his eye, he could see Essek also give his spellbook a cursory glance, then slip it back into its pocket dimension.

They took up their positions about ten paces apart, the others watching avidly from the sidelines.

“Are you ready to begin, Caleb?”

Caleb scoffed. “Ready to get my ass kicked, yes.”

For a moment, a downright devilish smile spread across Essek’s face – then, it was gone, replaced by a wall of impenetrable concentration.

A ringed hand shot out from within his robes, and the unmistakeable ozone-like scent of magic filled the air. For a moment, he became weightlessly suspended, his limbs dragging through the air like a bee through honey. Struggling for a moment, he managed to slam his hands together; the spell suddenly halted, and he dropped to the floor again, unscathed but for a heavy landing on his knees. Essek only hummed, and Jester cheered from the sidelines.

The ground digging into the bones of his knees, Caleb pulled out a rolled leaf, and threw it like a dart directly at him. Mid-air, the leaf flashed, becoming a shimmering arrow of sickly green. It streaked through the air towards Essek, its mark as sure as the dawn – until he shouted something in Undercommon, throwing his hands up before him, and the arrow ricocheted harmlessly off a spectral shield. Hands still raised, his fingers began to dance in patterns unfamiliar to Caleb, the space around him seeming to warp with his movements. And then he vanished.

Caleb rose slowly to his feet, rapidly scanning the area for any sign of movement. With his right hand, he pulled out a small iron rod, and waited patiently.

From the side, Beau shouted, “Caleb! He’s-”

Air suddenly rushed Caleb from behind, and he whirled around to see Essek suddenly reappear metres away, like he’d just stepped through a hole in the fabric of space. Something glittered between his long fingers, and gravity abruptly pulled him sideways, sending him tumbling across the stone floor. The iron cylinder went clattering down somewhere to Caleb’s right, far out of reach.

“-behind you.”

From the ground, he barely glimpsed Essek sauntering slowly closer, one eyebrow raised curiously. A single gesture, and he was slammed into the ground again. Once more he raised his hand, doubtlessly to cast the final spell to bind Caleb and end the fight embarrassingly quickly, but what remained of Caleb’s pride couldn’t take it. Essek’s hand came down, finishing the somatic component of the spell – just as Caleb finally grasped the vial of molasses in his component pouch, crushing it in his fist. The gesture slowed, allowing him just enough time to roll out of the way and to his feet. In slow-motion, Essek’s gaze followed him, amused expression gone. His eyes narrowed, but whether it was in concentration, appraisal or genuine irritation Caleb couldn’t tell. Uncomfortably quickly, he became very, very aware that Essek was using only maybe a fifth of his capabilities. But oddly enough, the thought was comforting, too.

With hands grazed by the rough-hewn stone floor, Caleb traced a few arcane sigils in front of him, and a ghostly spectre of a hand appeared in the air. It shot towards Essek, arcing through the air fast enough that his slowed eyes could scarcely track it. He jerked, but not fast enough – the hand’s skeletal digits raked across his cheekbone, drawing three lines of dark blood. From the sidelines, his friends yelled encouragement again.

Essek shook his head sharply, and his actions accelerated up to speed, the slowness quickly thrown off by his own mental fortitude. Hardly paying attention to the gashes on his cheek, he pulled out a sparkling chunk of metal, rolling it between dextrous fingers while muttering under his breath. Caleb backed up, arms raised and ready to throw up a shield.

In a flash of light, the metal disappeared, and Caleb’s limbs were snapped flush against his body in an invisible grip. He struggled for a moment to free his arms, and when the pressure quickly tightened, he allowed his body to go lax. Suspended a few inches above the ground, he could only watch as Essek approached.

“I have to say I’m impressed, Widogast,” he said. “Given I’ve about a hundred extra years of experience, you offered quite the spectacle.”

It was exhilarating, he realised, to go toe-to-toe with a spellcaster and know that you are utterly and completely outclassed. And he was obviously holding back, or the spar would’ve been over with a single spell. To finally see Essek in action, the result of over a century of study culminating in a single man of such extraordinary power Caleb could scarcely comprehend it – they’d barely finished, and already he wanted more.

He suddenly understood why Beauregard seemed to like getting bested by Jester so much.

From behind him, Caleb could hear the others walking over, and sure enough Jester bounced into view just a moment later. Without preamble, she tapped Essek lightly on the shoulder, and the scratch on his face closed over instantaneously.

“That was so cool, you guys! Caleb, can you learn to do that?”

“Working… on… it,” he choked out.

“Are you gonna let him down, or are you gonna make him get out himself?” Beau asked, watching them with her hands on her hips. “My tutors once did that to me with handcuffs, the assholes.”

“As tempting as that is, I did come here with other business in mind.” With a lazy wave of his hand the spell was dismissed, and Caleb dropped to the ground again, staggering to keep himself upright.

“If your ‘other business’ involves throwing me across the room again, I’m afraid I’ll have to pass.”

Nott handed his book back to him. “Are you alright? If you’re not, I can kill him in his sleep for you.”

Caleb only chuckled, and responded, “I’m fine, _schatz_. You don’t have to kill anyone tonight.”

“If you’re sure you’re okay, then. We’ll give you some _privacy_,” she said, and began coaxing the others out of the room. He tried not to think about the odd emphasis of that sentence, and returned his attention to Essek. By some miracle, he managed to look completely composed and perfect, as usual, while Caleb felt like he’d just been run over by a draft horse. Came with experience, he supposed.

“This isn’t, ah, entirely what I was expecting when you said you were willing to continue tutoring me, but I suppose practical experience is learning too.”

“Yes, it is. More painful, though,” Essek responded easily, brushing another hand along his face and looking at his hand in appreciation when it came away clean. “I did come here for our regular tutelage, though – if you aren’t too worn out, that is.”

_Kicking the shit out of me isn’t about to get you out of that, heißer Junge. _“Of course not; lead the way.”

Caleb followed him from the training room, attempting to ignore the eminent bruising on his ribs and the intense temptation of spending an hour in the hot tub. Later, though – right then, the allure of a few hours spent with Essek’s elusive spellbook was far too distracting.

-

It was peaceful being in the library, surrounded by sounds of home and comfort – Frumpkin snuffling in his sleep, the muted sounds of his friends in the other rooms, and Essek’s voice in his ear as he guided him through one spell or another. Even with his uncanny perception of time, it was easy to lose track of the passing of hours when all he could focus on was the tome in his hands and the hushed tenor in his ear.

“Are you familiar with this one? It uses many of the same principles used in dunamancy, simply applied in a different manner,” Essek said, pointing at a specific inscription in his own book. Disappointingly, Caleb did recognise it – a moderately difficult transmutation spell he’d had his eye on, but shelved in favour of more urgent pursuits.

“Yes, I am,” he murmured, taking the tome into his own careful hands and scanning the description of the spell. “The manipulation of the material itself is second to the manipulation of the forces surrounding it, yes? It is more focused on, on the relationship between objects than a singular object on its own, as it would seem.”

Still reading the annotations on the spell, he waited for a response. When only the crackling of the fire answered, he looked up. Essek sat, fingers at his temples, as he glared at some point in the middle distance, his shoulders curling and tightening enough that Caleb could see the tension in his neck. His face twitched, like he was having an internal conversation, and then relaxed as he rolled his eyes. Disappointment wound itself around Caleb’s ribs, the subtle satisfaction he’d felt at getting Essek to relax just a bit fading. Gently, he placed the book down and watched until the silence finally broke.

“I see. And this is for security, yes? Very well. I can be there in twenty minutes,” he said curtly, and came back to himself, eyes refocusing on the wall in front of him and glaring at it with a vengeance.

“Other arrangements?” Caleb guessed, before he could speak again. Essek seemed to jump, as if remembering he was there.

“I apologise, I thought I had another few hours. Apparently not.”

“Regular work, or the ball?”

Essek sighed heavily, standing up and straightening his already flawless mantle. “The ball, of course. I love the work I usually do, but this is...”

Caleb ached to ask why, the insatiable hunger for knowledge that drove his actions rearing its head. But Essek’s sudden defensiveness from the other day sprung to mind, halting Caleb’s response on his lips and staying his hand.

At the silence, Essek turned his head, cocked slightly to the side. “You asked the other day. You want to know, yes?”

Caleb nodded, handing back the other man’s spellbook. “Yes, I do. But I will not push the matter, Essek. Even prestigious Shadowhands are entitled to their privacy.”

Essek sighed a soft laugh, and a little fire that felt like pride lit itself below Caleb’s collarbone. Good to know he could still laugh, and good to know Caleb could make him do it.

“I suppose they are. Though I also suppose you might be the only person in a position to listen to me complain,” he said in consideration, seeming to weigh the pros and cons as he looked at some point over Caleb’s shoulder.

“Is that so?”

“Yes; most of my other associates seem to actually enjoy the night, and those that don’t tend to keep their mouths shut about it. And we’re friends, aren’t we? You said it yourself,” he mused, leaning a hip against the desk.

“I did,” Caleb responded simply, allowing him to fill in the silence with his own words. It was a tactic he’d used before; leave large gaps between small statements, and let them feel like they had to fill the gaps. Though he liked it decidedly better when it was in the context of this little back-and-forth they tended to do. Essek shot him a sidelong look, like he knew exactly what he was doing.

“It’s a distraction,” he relented finally. “A distraction from my own studies, the war effort, my regular workload – which is already large enough as it is. I can hardly believe we’re going ahead with it at all, _now_ of all times.”

He seemed to speed up as he spoke, like a dam had built up in his chest and all his thoughts were being released at once. _Is he so wrapped up in political intrigue that I am really the only person he can tell?_

“Understandable,” Caleb offered, just a small sign he was listening.

“It’s all surrounded by so much _bullshit_, and it’s excruciating when all I can think about is the foot-high stack of paperwork I have to do when it’s finally over.”

“Surely the night itself is not that terrible? Jester and Nott are very excited, I do not want them to be disappointed.”

Essek shook his head. “No, I’m sure they’ll like it immensely. Most of it is just socialising and food and dancing and whatnot. It would be more enjoyable if I knew how to–”

He abruptly cut himself off, jaw clenching tight enough Caleb could see a muscle flicker in his jaw even from where he was sitting. Knew how to what? He still didn’t see what the problem was, exactly. Essek was an excellent speaker, one of the most charming people he’d ever met, so it seemed highly unlikely he was uncomfortable making small talk. What else could he not know how to–

_Oh._

“You never learnt?” he asked gently, when the silence stretched on. “I’m sure you could pick it up easily.”

Essek scoffed, though it wasn’t venomous. “From who? I’ve gone to these balls for the past two decades; I’ll never live it down if the other dens discover this now.”

That much was true – when Astrid and Eodwulf had discovered he didn’t know how to waltz when they were fifteen, they didn’t let it go for months. The bittersweet memory tasted like ash in his mouth, and he pushed it aside.

“It’s not very complex, just moving in time to music. If I can teach Jester how to waltz while shitfaced in Hupperdook and not completely embarrass myself, it can’t be that difficult.”

Essek frowned quizzically at that, probably wondering what a Hupperdook was and the context of that little anecdote.

“Long and, ah, interesting story,” Caleb explained. “I’ll tell you another time. You’ll be late soon, it’s been twelve and a half minutes since you said you could be there.”

“Oh, that was an overestimation,” Essek said with a wave of his hand, but moved to leave anyway. “I can get there in five minutes, I just wanted to stall for time. And _you_ seem to be the most ideal distraction.”

Caleb couldn’t keep the smirk off his face at that one, and took the bait, following him from the library. “I was a friend a few minutes ago, now I’m a distraction? You wound me.”

Essek’s eyebrows shot up, shooting a playful glance over his shoulder at him. The tension and anxiety that had sprung back up since he received the message was nowhere to be seen. “Perhaps the promise of another lesson sometime soon will mollify you, hm?”

Ah, there it was; a transaction. Because that was the crux of it, wasn’t it? The heated undercurrent of every conversation, an endless game of cat and mouse in which the roles could reverse without warning. They were playing each other, that much was clear – but with the other party so aware of what was happening, he felt less guilty and more enthralled by what he could take and have taken. He was racing towards a cliff’s edge, praying he had the foresight to know when to stop.

“Perhaps it will.”

The front door greeted them, and Essek glided through the arch while Caleb opted to lean against the doorway. The sky above them was as dark and beautiful as ever.

“You’re a smart man, Essek,” Caleb called softly. “You’ll figure it out. Maybe you’ll even enjoy yourself this year.”

One last glance was sent over his mantle – this one without the teasing edge, more mellow. “Maybe I will. Good afternoon, Caleb.”

Caleb stayed leaning against the door, long after Essek’s form had disappeared into the darkness. He’d played this angle before, as much as it disgusted him – had used empty words and gestures as a means to an end since he was sixteen. And knowing Essek, it seemed likely he had too. He could undoubtedly socially outsmart Caleb any day, and he suspected Essek did so often for his own, deliberately vague means. What was odd was that Caleb didn’t mind; he was outclassed, completely and utterly, by this intimidatingly talented foreign wizard, and he was having _fun_. It was ridiculous and stimulating and was so difficult it could hardly lead anywhere.

But Caleb always did like a challenge, didn’t he?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading the update folks! Sorry about the paragraph from the book at the start, I just desperately wanted to write about wacky quantum mechanics. I currently proofread these things myself, so if I’ve missed any mistakes feel free to let me know  
Also, my workload irl will be increasing over the next couple weeks, so I’ll try to update as regularly as I can but I may be late sometimes. I aim to update on Wednesdays or Thursdays pacific time.


	3. 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jester has the field trip of her life, and Caleb experiences a well-meaning interrogation. A transaction is negotiated, if one that's a bit unconventional.

Caleb was not a morning person. If his line of work didn’t require him getting up at the crack of dawn every day, he would be very content to wake up after noon more often than before it, making their occasional periods of downtime very convenient for waking up in time for lunch instead of breakfast most days.

Somewhere in his subconscious, he registered quick, heavy footfalls outside his room, just before somebody slammed the door opened hard enough that they might have to replace the hinges.

“Caleb! _It’s happening_.”

From where he had his face pushed into the pillow, Caleb gave a half-hearted groan into the bed.

“What are you talking about, Jester?”

More footfalls, and the pillow abruptly disappeared from beneath Caleb’s head, leaving him to smash his face into the mattress below.

“We waited as long as we could for you to wake up, but we need as much time as possible for this. I have an itinerary, and if we don’t stick to it, we’ll run out of time which is, like, a disaster.”

Caleb’s sleep-fogged mind was too focused on attempting to wake up to comprehend what in the nine hells she was talking about. Outside, Rosohna was as tenebrous as ever, but he had the feeling it was early enough that normally the sun would be barely free of the horizon. The concept of willingly waking up at such a time was completely unacceptable.

“Jester, it’s six thirty-eight in the morning, and I have no idea what you are on about,” he said, rubbing a hand over his eyes and the stubble that had grown in since he last shaved.

Jester gasped, and whacked him with the pillow in indignation. “If you tell me that you forgot that we’re going shopping today, with _your_ memory, I’m going to draw _so_ many dicks on your spellbook that you won’t even be able to see your spells anymore.”

Ah, that was right - as his senses gradually started working again, he could hear the others already up and about, having breakfast and talking in the dining room where they’d discussed going out just the night before. They must be waiting for him, he realised belatedly.

“I did not forget, Jester,” he reassured her, wedging an elbow beneath himself to sit and gently grabbing his pillow back. “You know I’m not a person in the mornings.”

“That is true. You look like a zombie.”

He sighed, though it was more amiable than exasperated. “Thank you for waking me, I will be ready in ten.”

“Good; if you’re not, I will be personally manhandling you out of this room,” she declared, then turned and marched out of the room, closing the wooden door behind her and already leaping into another conversation. With no doubts she would literally drag him out the door, he dressed quickly, slipping into the dining room in exactly eight minutes and forty-three seconds. The others had already gathered, packing up after breakfast (which, as usual, was an eclectic mix of bacon, ale and what looked like sautéed vegetables). Caduceus seemed to be consoling Fjord as he cleared plates, who was resignedly staring into space, his face propped up on his hand. Nott and Jester talked animatedly on the other end of the table while Beau watched with a faint smile, which then turned into her typical smirk as she noticed Caleb enter.

“What’s up, sleeping beauty? Jester was about to come ‘spiritual weapon’ your ass,” she called over the din, rising from the bench and offering a hand to Jester.

“_Ja, ja_, thank you for waiting. Are we ready to go?”

From within the kitchen, Caduceus protested, “No, you haven’t eaten yet, Caleb.”

“He can grab something on the way, we have a schedule to stick to,” Jester interrupted, scanning through something written in her notebook. “Do you even know how long outfitting formal wear takes?”

“I wear the same clothes all the time, Jes.”

“Yeza and I skipped the wedding dress so we could elope.”

“My parents never let me attend fancy parties where I could embarrass them.”

“Okay, first of all, that’s really sad Beau and I’m sorry. Second, even though it’s _really_ fun – don’t give me that look, Fjord – it takes for-fucking-ever.”

“So, we should go now, then?” Fjord asked from where he had his forehead pressed into the table; though Caleb really didn’t mind the whole ordeal as much as Fjord did, he felt a certain camaraderie with him.

Jester nodded cheerfully and hauled him up by the arm and linking it with hers. “The best time to go was an hour ago, but the second-best time to go is now.” With that oddly wise statement, she dragged him through the door and out of sight. The remaining four left in the dining room shared a brief look, one mixed with varying degrees of excitement and terror.

“To Zada- I mean, to the tailor’s!”

-

A short foray into the sunless streets of Rosohna, a box of pastries and six streets later, Wilclyf and Baenate Formal Tailoring appeared, an affair of polished stone nestled between the other stores that lined the busy street.

“I am more scared of that building than I was of the dragon. Can we just not go to the ball? Is that an option?”

“Fjord, you’re being overdramatic. Now hurry up, we don’t want to keep this nice man inside waiting,” Nott ordered from the doorway, and like anybody who had both a hatred of shopping and an intense desire to get it over with, Fjord obliged.

The establishment didn’t seem that horrible to Caleb – there were other things in the world he’d rather be doing, sure, but he wasn’t going to beg the gods for another fate, as it seemed Fjord was about to do at any moment. The interior was nice, even, tastefully decorated with dark wood and the geometric designs that seemed to be common in the Dynasty. A small fire crackled in the corner, a welcome reprieve from the frigid Xhorhasian autumn outside. Displays dotted the reception, exhibiting illustrious ballgowns that glittered with jewels in the low light, which Nott immediately approached while Jester bounced up to the drow receptionist.

“Ah, Miss Lavorre. You are here to organise your formal wear for the ball, yes?”

“Yes, we’re very excited,” she said, singsong.

“Of course,” he responded with a smile, though it was the sort of customer service smile that said, ‘they don’t pay me enough to talk to members of the public all day.’ “Please, take a seat; we’ll be with you in just a moment.”

Jester steadfastly ignored that comment, instead joining Nott in her perusal of the displays. A few minutes passed, filled with only the sounds of the crackling fire and Nott and Jester giggling together. The receptionist swept back into the room, this time accompanied by an older drow woman and a goblin.

“Welcome back, Ms Lavorre,” the goblin said, their voice soft even in the quiet room. “I take it these are your companions you mentioned during your previous visit?”

“Yes! We need to get everyone through today, because we got our invitation late which is fine and everything but we don’t have, like, loads of time to plan all of our outfits which is super sad, you know? Oh! And I need to see what everyone is getting, because I don’t trust _some_ of these people to get things that look good and suit the occasion. Is that okay?”

Bewildered, the tailors only nodded, processing the deluge of information that had been hurled at them within the span of about ten seconds.

“That is… perfectly fine, yes. Who will be first, then?”

Immediately, Fjord stood up from where he had slumped into an armchair. “Let’s get this done, then.”

Jester grabbed him by the forearm, darting through the curtain and giggling softly as she went. The room quietened as the others left, Caduceus settling into a plush seat and Beau trying to inconspicuously snoop behind the counter before the receptionist came back. Taking a seat next to Caduceus, Caleb took out his book, and settled in for the long haul.

Miraculously, Fjord managed to escape fairly quickly, letting in Beau and Caduceus afterwards. Eventually, Jester’s self-control seemed to wear thin, and the excited squealing from the next room indicated she was finally getting to choose a dress for herself.

“Gu-uys! I need more opinions!” she called out after an hour. Beau lurched to her feet and slinked through the curtains, various sounds of approval and admiration following immediately after. Knowing Beau, she sounded genuine, rather than the painfully stilted manners she put on occasionally.

“Well, now I want to see, too,” Caduceus rumbled, dipping his head slightly as he followed Beau into the next room. Caleb slipped a bookmark into his book and moved to follow, but a small, slim hand seized his elbow before he could.

“Caleb, would you wait a minute?” Nott asked, her hushed tone immediately making him to sit back down.

“What is it? Is everything alright?”

“Of course, of course,” she assured hurriedly, eyeing the curtain to make sure they were alone before turning her gaze on him. “I just- it never seems like the right time, but I wanted to talk to you. About Essek.”

Caleb froze. “…_ja_? What about him?”

“Listen, I’m happy that you have someone to talk about all your magic-y things with, because you’re both very clever, and I know it’s important to you that you can learn more about dunamancy.”

“But?”

“But you know I worry,” she continued, a decidedly maternal note slipping into her tone. Old habits die hard, he presumed. “And with all this time you’re spending with him – though I think it’s great you’re making connections here! – I have to wonder what his motives are, exactly.”

“And you’re worried he might try to, ah, play us?” Caleb guessed.

“Yes, but play _you_, specifically.”

He sat back in his chair, staring at the fine grain of the floorboards as he mulled it over. In the next room, the others were discussing whatever latest dress Jester had tried on. “I have thought the exact same thing, I will be honest. And I don’t doubt he has his own motivations for continuing our… _relationship_, but-”

“_What_?”

Caleb’s gaze jerked back up to her at the quiet shriek, her mouth hanging open to make a perfect ‘o.’

“_Scheisse_, that’s not what I–”

“You’re _sleeping with him_?” she whisper-screamed, something between disbelief and horror writing itself onto her features. From beyond the curtain, silence fell.

“What are you guys talking about?” Beau called. He and Nott shared a panicked look.

“…Math!” she called, only somewhat hesitantly. It seemed to work though, because the others made a noise of disgust and the chatter picked up again.

“That is _not_ what I meant,” Caleb stressed. “I’m just saying that he is probably still associating with me – and us, you know, by extension – for his own reasons.”

Nott squinted at him through narrowed eyes. “Are you sure you’re not sleeping with him?”

“Obviously I’m sure!” he sputtered. “Besides, I’m sure he’s not doing this for his own, his own fun.”

“And you’re okay with that? With him essentially using you?”

That gave him pause. “Well, it’s mutually beneficial, _ja_? If we can do jobs for him, and I can keep learning from him, then all is one!”

“It’s a transaction, then. But do you like him? Is he a good tutor, a good man?” she questioned, her voice taking on a warmer tone. There was a long pause.

“I enjoy it. The, the back-and-forth, and the tutelage, it might be for other reasons under it all, but it’s nice. It’s nice.”

She didn’t respond, instead studying the threads of the armrest between her fingers. When she finally returned his gaze, the look on her face was so full of concern and love it almost killed him.

“I know you worry, but I’ve worked this angle before,” he continued. “This can work out for us, I promise.”

Another long moment, she nodded, and patted his hand. “Alright, you know I trust you.”

He smiled shyly, and grasped her fingers in her own.

“Besides, he _is_ very handsome,” she said mildly, and he shot her a glare. “What? Even if you’re not–”

Beau poked her head back into the front room, shooting them a mildly suspicious look. “Caleb, Jester says you’re up next.” Her head disappeared between the curtains again.

Standing up and pointedly ignoring Nott’s continued comments, he slipped through the curtains and resigned himself to at least forty minutes of measurements and decisions. Considering the alternative of staying out there where Nott could continue to tease him in front of the others, he almost preferred it.

When the day had drawn to a close, and Jester had finally decided that their thrilling adventure would have to conclude, the house was quiet relatively early. An unfortunate side effect of going to bed in the early hours of the morning, however, was that even the weariness that tugged at Caleb’s limbs wouldn’t let him rest early.

The gentle sounds of somebody moving in the tower, Frumpkin purring and the odd birds that chittered outside were doing an excellent job of almost making him pass out onto the book he was reading, though. With a sleepy gesture, the candle at his desk snuffed itself out, and he collapsed into bed, just on the verge of drifting off-

-and then his alarm at the garden wall went off, jolting him awake and scaring the living daylights out of Frumpkin.

Part of him was tempted to ignore it and let his future self deal with whoever or whatever it was; until a much larger, much more paranoid part of him argued loudly, and he dragged himself upright with a groan. Half relying on the wall to guide him there, he wrenched the door open, entirely ready to tell whoever it was to piss off until morning.

_Nine Hells, I don’t care if it’s the Bright Queen, she’s coming back in the-_

Essek stood there, one hand raised to knock and the other fiddling with something on his mantle. He seemed relieved to see Caleb, as if he expected him to suddenly not live there.

“I’m sorry for the late hour, but I very much need to speak to you,” he finally managed, a muscle in his jaw flickering.

Caleb dragged a hand over his face and looked at Essek over his fingers. “It couldn’t wait until tomorrow morning?”

“I’m calling in on a favour.”

That caught Caleb’s attention, waking him up marginally. He glanced over his shoulder at the quiet of the Xhorhaus – normally at least Nott would still be awake, but the exhaustion of the day had quickly set in. As far as he knew, only Caduceus was still awake at the top of his tower.

“Come in, then. We’ll have to keep our voices down; unless you need the others?”

“No, no, their presence will not be necessary,” Essek said hurriedly, following Caleb through the entryway and into the library. He closed the door behind them, letting the lock catch as quietly as possible. When he turned to face Caleb, sitting at the corner desk rubbing sleep out of his eyes, he looked almost… apprehensive?

“So, the favour,” Caleb began. “Has something happened? What do you need from us?”

He couldn’t say he wasn’t expecting it. He knew that Essek would eventually come to collect on one of the many debts they owed him, but he hadn’t expected it to be a ‘get up in the middle of night and go’ kind of debt.

“Before I begin, I would like for you to know that this is to remain a matter of utmost secrecy. This is not something I want my political peers to be aware of, let alone the public at large. Is this understood?”

Interest thoroughly piqued, Caleb leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Of course. But, ah, if it is this critical to your interests, would it not be better for the others to know? We work best togeth-“

“Absolutely not. I want nobody else in this house to know.”

Caleb waited for a moment in expectant silence; Essek seemed to be, if he could believe it, _stalling_. Time to cut to the chase. Another moment passed.

“I need you to teach me to dance.”

For once, Caleb’s mind was completely blank – no thoughts, no worries, no guilt, just blissfully pure nothingness.

_I think I’m going into shock._

“You. Need me. To teach you to dance. And this is the favour we owe you?”

Essek sighed, as if he wished the entire conversation were some sort of messed up fever dream. Caleb, for his part, was trying to remember if somebody had slipped something into his food.

“Yes, I know this is… strange, but–”

“Alright, I have a variety of questions,” Caleb interrupted. “But I’m going to start with the obvious one; why are you here in the middle of the night?”

“Privacy, above all else. While I _am_ tasked with attending to your group, visiting too often may arouse suspicion. Both amongst your friends and others.”

Caleb huffed a laugh, then quickly stifled it when Essek scowled. “They are very, ah, nosy. And though I know I’m in no position to refuse; I am not some fantastic dancer, I just know how to waltz. You are coming to me, of all people?”

Essek sighed through his nose again, and floated over to slump into the seat next to Caleb. “You are an outsider to the dynasty, even if you’ve returned a beacon. Your disconnection to the intricacies of Kryn politics makes you easier to trust, and less likely to be believed if this gets out. Which I am trusting it will _not_.”

“If it does, you’ll know exactly who to blame,” Caleb joked weakly. “So, I find that unlikely. Is the conflict between dens so intense that this could damage your reputation?”

“Worse. Given I’ve gone to these balls for the last twenty years, that I have avoided dancing simply because of an unwillingness to learn would be deemed highly unprofessional.”

_You’re over a century old, why did you never take the time to learn? _The question teetered on the edge of Caleb’s tongue, but the bags under Essek’s eye and the curl of his shoulders made him hesitate. A question for another time, perhaps.

“I see.”

Caleb sorted through the ten thousand other questions whirling through his mind, and the conversation lulled. Essek glared into the grain of the wooden bench they sat at like it owed him money, his usual pompous façade completely gone. Though he didn’t wish for him to be upset, Caleb almost liked the genuine expression more. It was a good look on him.

“I know this is unexpected,” Essek said softly, attention darting from the bench to catch Caleb’s gaze. “But I am at my wit’s end, and I have sixteen days until this ball, and I need your help. This cannot get out to the other dens.”

Whether it was the gentle downward turn of his lips, or the surprising vulnerability that shaded his grey eyes, something in Caleb’s chest melted.

Eventually, he said, “Even if I expected a favour of, ah, of a very different calibre, I do owe you. And I intend to make good on that promise, Essek - not tonight, perhaps, because Jester took us shopping and I'm exhausted, but I will not let you down.”

His shoulders dropped in relief, and Essek leaned back in his chair, putting a hand over his mouth as he chuckled into it.

“This is ridiculous,” he breathed, and deliriously, Caleb started to grin as well. “Though I have to wonder what you expected the first favour I called in to be.”

Caleb hummed, letting Essek change the subject onto something less mildly embarrassing for him. “Something of a more political nature, certainly. I imagine you would have plenty of regular goons to order about as you wish, so I was of the impression you would be in need of our particular brand of chaos.”

“That would be correct,” Essek conceded. “Jester did mention the job you completed for Professor Waccoh; if I didn’t find it so highly entertaining to see Foreman Bodo brought down a few pegs, I would be of half a mind to pull her up on it.”

Caleb chuckled softly at the memory. “Did she tell you about the re-enactment part?”

Something mischievous glinted in his eye. “Do tell.”

Despite the exhaustion that clung to his every movement, and the lingering shock of Essek’s request, Caleb stayed up, letting the idle chat continue from topic to topic; the various heists the Nein had somehow managed to pull off, the amount of paperwork Essek had to do on a daily basis, the safety hazards related to the lab. It was curious, being able to speak with him uninterrupted and without the pretences of work or tutelage. Though he supposed any notion of professionalism had flown out the window, with Essek having appeared in the middle of the night and the top of Caleb’s shirt being unlaced down to the sternum.

“I’ll leave you to your rest; humans need far more sleep, as I understand it,” Essek eventually said, after Caleb had caught his eyes wandering below his collar for the third time in the last fourteen minutes. Funnily enough, Caleb really didn’t mind. Perhaps not ready to admit he was quietly basking in the attention, but he could tell himself he didn’t mind it.

“_Ja_, though it’s impossible to get anything done. Let me see you out,” He offered, fumbling to push his chair in with sleep-clumsy hands.

“Go rest, Caleb,” Essek murmured kindly. “I’ll make sure I lock the door.”

The overwhelmingly paranoid part of him objected, reminding him _you’re not safe here, you’re not safe with anyone outside the group, you’re not safe anywhere, _until the part of him that was already asleep decided it was really more trouble than it was worth. He nodded, and vaguely waved him on.

“I’ll see you again soon, Essek,” he mumbled, and though he was tired, the soft smile he received in return somehow made it all worth it.

Two seconds later Essek slipped out of the library, and eighteen seconds later he heard the lock on the door catch. Two minutes later Caleb was already asleep in bed, left to dream about the curve of dark purple lips and the wandering path a pair of steel-grey eyes might take across one’s chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hm. probably shouldve learned how to waltz before i wrote this huh.  
ALSO I forgot to mention that I’m higgity-heck on tumblr! come scream at me about CR


	4. 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The tables turn, and Caleb becomes the mentor rather than the student.   
(content warning for mention of alcohol)

The unfortunate thing about being a human in the middle of Rosohna, other than the thinly veiled distrust one might face from most residents, was the darkness. The eternal night sky was beautiful, that was for sure, but it was also infinitely easier for one to be snuck up on, whether or not the offending party meant for this to happen or not.

“Ah, Caleb. Excellent ti-”

“_Scheisse_!”

Caleb jerked away from the sudden voice to his right, clutching his stack of parchment to his chest like a shield. Ahead of him, in the middle of unlocking the front door, Fjord whirled around, Dwueth’var already appearing in a puff of snow. It would’ve been incredibly intimidating, had he not been using the other arm to juggle a bag of recently-acquired spell components.

“It’s just me,” Essek soothed, stepping into Caleb’s viewing distance with his hands raised slightly. “I hadn’t realised you wouldn’t be able to see me, apologies”

Caleb heaved a sigh, a breathless laugh escaping letting out adrenaline that was suddenly useless. “The downfalls of human eyesight, I suppose. You’re here for that book you loaned me, _ja_? I have it on me.” He could feel Fjord’s curious eyes on the back of his head, and suddenly felt very self-conscious for reasons he couldn’t quite ascertain.

“Yes, I am; but I do have a few hours free, if you’re interested? We wouldn’t have to rush,” Essek asked, the cocked eyebrow and slight smirk indicative that yes, the double entendre was absolutely intended. Caleb cleared his throat, still uncomfortably aware that Fjord was watching this entire exchange.

“_Ja, ja_, that’s sounds – that sounds good. Come in, then, I’ll just have to sort through Fjord’s spell–”

“Perhaps it would be better,” Essek interrupted. “If we performed these spells elsewhere; they can be volatile, if done incorrectly. I have a secure place in mind.”

In the corner of Caleb’s vision, Fjord’s gaze flicked suspiciously between the two of them.

“A sensible decision,” Caleb eventually murmured, locking eyes with Essek. An unspoken message passed between them, and suddenly Caleb had flipped to the page Essek was on. “Let me put this inside, first.”

“You go, I’ll take the paper,” Fjord offered, holding out his hand for the stack of parchment and looking very grateful for a sudden out. “Have fun doing… whatever it is you get up to. Should I tell the others you’re out?”

“_Danke_, Fjord. And yes, I don’t want Nott organising a search party before the day is up.”

Fjord snorted. “She wouldn’t organise a search party, she’d track you down herself. Later, then,” he said, waving them on as he slipped inside.

“Where to, Shadowhand?” Caleb asked, turning his attention from Fjord and the house to the man in front of him. He looked better – not to say he ever looked _bad_, which he didn’t, but the drawn look to his features and the tension in his shoulders had faded. Perhaps their… _agreement_ of the other night had meant more to him than Caleb had even realised.

“Somewhere more private, I believe. Come,” he said, frustratingly vague, but there was something endearing about it.

“You and your dramatics,” Caleb grumbled, which just got him an amused glance over the shoulder.

Rosohna was beautiful as ever, the seascape of stars and magnificent spires still entrancing after all the months they’d lived there. Essek lead them through a series of streets that became both gradually unfamiliar and upper-class, the stone that comprised most buildings in the city increasingly replaced with polished marble and stained glass.

“You are less familiar with this side of Rosohna?” Essek questioned, catching Caleb’s examination of the surroundings. “It’s largely residential, I’m not surprised you’d have little reason to venture here.”

“We are headed to your residence, then?” Caleb asked, suspicions confirmed.

“We are. Less prying eyes, I’m sure you’ll understand.”

He did – as much as he loved his friends, attempting to sneak around the Xhorhaus or maintain any semblance of privacy was nigh on impossible, let alone attempting to privately teach someone to waltz within a two-week timeframe.

Eventually they slowed, in front of narrow building tucked between other, larger houses on a street corner. It was smaller than Caleb might have expected for someone of Essek’s position, but still an elegant building, outfitted in elegant spires and accents of wrought iron.

With a wave of his hand, Essek opened the polished wooden door and nodded towards it. “After you, Widogast.”

The interior was even nicer, immaculately kept and decorated. Just barely in view through a doorway, there were several cases of scrolls and papers resting on a shelf; Caleb slowed down, slightly, to catch a glimpse, until Essek cleared his throat.

“Ah, sorry,” Caleb said, ducking his head sheepishly, but Essek only smirked, and continued on. With another gesture, a section of the wall opened and swung open soundlessly, Essek disappearing inside.

After a moment, lanterns flickered on inside, doubtlessly for Caleb’s benefit, illuminating the deceptively large room. Shelves of books lined the walls, tomes of wildly different topics and sizes and ages, some most likely written long before Caleb was born. His fingers twitched, and he shoved them in his pockets.

“You can take a look, if you’d like,” Essek offered from where he busied himself with a wine bottle at an intimidatingly large desk. “The most fragile ones are kept elsewhere, anyway.”

Immediately, Caleb strode to the closest shelf, scanning the books; largely on the subjects on dunamancy and theoretical physics, which wasn’t surprising. The whole while, he could feel Essek’s eyes on the back of his head, tracking the way he lightly ran his fingers over the spines as he browsed. Even with his eyes locked on the books in front of him, he could imagine what he looked like – probably leaning against the desk slightly, the picture of confidence, eyelids lowered almost lazily though his gaze was forever sharp. Observing, always observing.

“You have an impressive collection.”

Essek hummed. “Perhaps I’ll even let you explore it someday. But other matters press, Mr Widogast.”

Caleb heeded the veiled instruction, turning from the bookcase with more difficulty than he would like to admit. “So, I’m assuming there aren’t actually any ‘volatile spells?’”

“Oh, there most certainly are,” Essek countered smoothly. “Too many cocky wizards and scientists have accidentally unravelled their own atoms trying to master dunamancy; I’ll let you have a browse of _that_ particular history if we have time. Regardless, I did bring you here for a purpose.”

“Not to, ah, woo me with your fancy collection of books, I’m assuming. So, how do you want to do this?”

Essek reached over to pluck a wine glass off the desk and offer it to him. “Have a drink, and I suppose I’ll subject myself to this entire mortifying ordeal.”

“Is this out of hospitality, or an unwillingness to do this sober?” Caleb pondered, taking the glass and taking a tentative sip. The red – his personal favourite, not that he’d mentioned it the other day and was extremely glad Essek seemed to have noticed, or anything – was rich and full-bodied, not something he would’ve expected from the frigid Xhorhasian climate.

“Must it be one or the other?”

Essek downed his glass quickly and set it on the table a tad more heavily than was strictly necessary. _Is he truly this nervous?_

“Come here, then,” Caleb began, as gently as he could, and placed his own glass down next to Essek’s. “Do you know anything about, about dancing? Or a waltz, specifically?”

Essek’s gaze flickered to the side for a second, then back to him. Embarrassed, and probably nervous, though he hid it with the ease of someone very practiced in putting forward a cool exterior. “I know that typically, there’s music involved. Such as the music we don’t have,” he quipped, eyebrow raised. _So, he turns on the charm when he feels threatened. Interesting, but not surprising._

“Music will just complicate things too early. I will count, and you will follow my steps,” Caleb looked at him expectantly. “And I don’t think you can follow me while you float, Essek. Can you stand?”

“Of course I can stand,” Essek scoffed, though a slight purple flush tinted the tips of his pointed ears. “It’s not my problem the rest of you have to walk everywhere.”

“You’re stalling,” Caleb said delicately, when Essek made no move to drop the levitation spell. “Do you- do you have feeling? In your legs? I mean, are you, ah, are able you to–”

His jaw clenched. “Yes, I can stand, just not always for long periods. I will have to deal with it as we go. Please, don’t ask – it’s not something I want to go into.”

The spell didn’t dissipate, per se; instead of dropping to the ground, he floated a few inches down, letting his feet find purchase on the ground but keeping the spell in place. He was still levitating, hanging off the ground ever so slightly, Caleb never would’ve guessed he wasn’t just standing normally. The part of him that wasn’t rapidly trying to process what was happening couldn’t help but marvel at the precision and control it must have taken. And to maintain concentration while focusing on another task entirely? Incredible.

“I will never press for details you are not comfortable sharing, Essek,” Caleb murmured. “Now, I will lead, so put one hand on my shoulder and the other in my own – _ja_, like that – and I will put my hand just below your shoulder blade.”

They slipped into position, and then they were close enough for their breath to mingle. The extra inches of height he thought Essek had on him had disappeared, Caleb realised, leaving them directly at eye level.

“Now, ah, it’s – a waltz is essentially stepping in a box, at its most basic. So, I will step backward, and you will step forward – like that, perfect – and the bring it together.”

He was a quick study, though that was no surprise – even in a realm of expertise vastly different to his own, Essek’s formidable intelligence was on display as he listened to an instruction and perfected it moments later. The dark, slender hand in Caleb’s own was soft and gentle, Essek’s ringed fingers threading through his. It was odd, suddenly being the teacher of someone he knew was far more experienced than him – he was permitted to notice the way Essek’s eyelashes fluttered as he watched his own steps, and the slight pout to his lips when he concentrated, and the earnest, sheepish grin that graced his features when he mis-stepped and made them bump into each other. It was like he was being let in on something very few had ever seen, the only witness to a miracle that nobody would believe the account of.

“I’m quite impressed, you know,” Caleb commented mildly once they had settled into a slow rhythm. “It took me far longer than this to stop stepping on my partner’s feet, and now you’re probably better than I am.”

Essek chuckled. “You flatter me, Caleb. Besides, I have a lot of time I need to make up for – the least I can do is make this as painless as possible for both you and myself.”

A suspicious voice in the back of Caleb’s head screamed for him to ask _why, why didn’t you learn before_; but something warm and hopeful in his chest told him not to press.

“This is hardly painful, Essek,” Caleb said, taking a step back and leading Essek with him, who seamlessly followed. He was a natural, it would seem, and Caleb wondered why he didn’t just let someone else lead him through dances if he didn’t want to learn properly. But for once Essek looked relaxed instead of stressed, and funnily enough, Caleb couldn’t bring himself to ruin the mood. The mood, however, seemed set on ruining itself.

A knock on the front door echoed through the house and into the study, shocking both of them out the cadence they had slipped into. They sprung apart, like teenagers caught making out in a supply closet – not that Caleb was speaking from experience, of course. And it wasn’t like they were doing anything wrong or depraved; they were just dancing, even if Caleb’s attention was focused on Essek’s face more often than his movements. He had very nice cheekbones, was all. Very handsome facial structure in general.

“Ah, just give me a moment,” Essek said, stopping where he stood – stood? Hovered? Stood-hovered? – and gently detaching himself from Caleb’s arm. Immediately, he missed the warmth. “I wasn’t expecting anyone to interrupt, apologies.”

“No, no, that’s – that’s fine. I’ll busy myself with stealing your books; if you’re missing a few when you come back, don’t worry about it.”

“I will assume you are joking, but I can never quite tell with you lot. I’ll be back.”

He swept out of the room, leaving Caleb alone with a few hundred books and a half-finished glass of Xhorhasian wine. It was nice, he decided as he absently finished it off; not as good as the Lionett family wine, but nice.

Moments later, voices floated from the front door, Essek’s familiar tenor and another unidentified speaker. Though they were too quiet for Caleb to discern the words, the coolly business-like tone had seeped into Essek’s voice, the playful feel of just minutes before having dissipated like fog in the sun. Must be work, then.

Minutes passed, Caleb casually scanning the spines, until the front door clicked shut again and Essek swept back into the study. Hard lines had been etched around his eyes, and though he did an excellent job of disguising his own emotions, Caleb was too good of a liar himself to buy it.

“A missive from the Bright Queen, and a variety of paperwork,” he announced, a stack of parchment in his right hand. “Not all of it security for the ball, at least. Though I would have more time to devote to my own individual study if I wasn’t preoccupied with making sure the guests of Dens VaSuun and Dwendalos don’t reignite their feud and start dueling in the ballroom.”

“…Is that likely to happen?”

“At this point, I don’t even know myself,” Essek muttered, bitterness seeping into his tone though his voice was carefully measured. “I’ll be stuck in the middle of it, though.”

“You’ve done a lot of work to prepare for this; surely they won’t take any and every problem to you on the night,” Caleb said, something that felt uncomfortably like concern twining itself around his ribs.

“Typically, that’s what I would occupy my time with instead of dancing or making small talk with nobles. A convenient excuse, if stressful.”

“Well, perhaps that could change,” Caleb ventured. “since you’ve picked this up admirably quickly. If your, ah, your associates can take the opportunity to relax, maybe you could follow suit.”

Essek barked a short, mirthless laugh. “My position doesn’t allow for much relaxation, I’m afraid. Highly stimulating and rewarding? Absolutely. But I haven’t taken an entire day off in years, Widogast.”

The conversation lulled somewhat awkwardly, Caleb helpless but to watch as the tension and exhaustion that had ebbed away returned tenfold. A beat of silence came and went, until the hunch of Essek’s shoulders tugged at some part of Caleb that was still kind, and he couldn’t take it.

“Forgive me if I am overstepping, Essek,” he began somewhat cautiously. “But I believe you have, ah, have been blinded to the importance of rest. And you are worse off because of it.”

When Essek’s gaze snapped sharply to him, he hurried to continue. “What I mean- what I mean is that your job is important, ja? And you need to be perfect all the time, and _work_ all the time, for your Queen and your people and your country. That is impossible.

“We – the Mighty Nein – fuck up _constantly_. And then we rest and recuperate and continue. Our line of work is hectic, and dangerous, and exhausting, but we keep going because we have those lulls; we would splinter and break without them. I am in the habit of denying myself things that I need, but I have been pushed beyond my breaking point too many times, I think. Even I cannot deny myself that.”

He finally took breath, and his words seemed to reverberate and echo off the walls of books. He braced himself in the silence, ready for Essek to throw him out of his house and demand they never speak again. When he finally looked up, Essek hadn’t moved, staring unseeingly at the bookcase ahead of him. But he didn’t seem angry, or offended that Caleb had dared tell him he was destroying himself; his lips had parted subconsciously in thought, brow furrowed not in anger but in… melancholic consideration, maybe. He looked younger, Caleb thought. And lost.

“I’m not sure I remember how.”

Caleb started, the words uttered so quietly, so vulnerably, that for a moment he believed he’d imagined them.

“I’m sorry?”

“To stop, I mean,” Essek stumbled. “I’m not sure I remember – remember to rest. How to rest. There’s always more to do, a good time never comes up.”

Caleb nodded, slowly taking a place against the desk next to Essek and looking ahead. He didn’t expect Essek to be as uncomfortable about eye contact as he was, but it was comfort and respect in the only way he knew how.

“I’m not sure there’s ever a good time – you have to make time, I think. Even if it’s small, and you think you don’t have time, and you think you don’t deserve it – which would be ridiculous, frankly, I see how hard you work – it will help. Please, trust me in this.”

Essek didn’t respond, still gazing into the middle distance as he listened. Absently, he fiddled with a fine metal pen on the desk, and Caleb mercifully ignored the tremble to his fingers. Still, he didn’t say anything, though the silent reluctance was almost tangible.

Inch by inch, giving him all the time in the world to jerk away and stop the whole scene immediately, Caleb laid a gentle hand on his forearm, stilling his continual fidgeting. Finally, Essek’s head snapped up to stare at him, something wild and vulnerable swimming in the silver. He didn’t move away, and Caleb didn’t move his hand.

“Let me distract you, then,” Caleb offered. He couldn’t solve his problems for him, and he couldn’t make them go away, but he could make it easier in the meantime. He could do that. “Just for a bit. Do you have anywhere to be now?”

Essek shook his head mutely. “No, not today,” he eventually managed; though it was gravelly, like the words were attempting to escape a throat closed painfully tight.

“Well, I have been attempting to slip a few books into my coat for the last hour and a half. If you want me to leave here without half your library, perhaps you’d better just show me the good ones once we’re done.”

Essek huffed a shaky laugh, and leaned away from the desk. “Insatiable, Caleb. Very well, then; I’ll let you raid my library once you’ve decided I won’t embarrass myself in front of the entire court.”

Caleb scoffed, though it was more fond than cruel. “You’ll hardly embarrass yourself, you look like you’ve been doing this for years rather than hours. Though perhaps I should show you how to lead, too. Just in case.”

“I would rather be prepared than not,” Essek said, refilling his and Caleb’s wine glasses. He looked shaken, obviously, and still stressed, but some of the frustration and bitterness had seeped from his expression. Similarly, the concern that had threatened to smother Caleb before had subsided, replaced by relief that he’d managed to get him to take a break, even a small one. He chose not to entertain the thought his own desire that Essek be alright seemed to extend far beyond the concern of casual acquaintances or people trying to mutually manipulate each other; that internal revelation was definitely coming, and he intended to procrastinate on it as long as possible.

“Alright,” Caleb said, taking a swig and placing the glass back down. Time to distract himself from his own internal monologue. “Come here, then; leading is essentially the same as following, just reversed.”

Essek approached, again altering his levitation spell to give the illusion of walking. “Seems straightforward. I put my hand on your shoulder blade, yes?”

A warm hand slid over the expanse of Caleb’s back, and he suppressed a shiver. “Ja, that’s – that’s correct. Now, this time you will step back, and I will follow – yes, like that – and then to the side. Perfect.”

They settled into an easy rhythm again, and for a while the companionable quiet was broken only by Caleb’s soft counting; _eins, zwei, drei, eins, zwei, drei_. It was simple, enough that they could let the topic of conversation drift and flutter where it wished, though the combination of two glasses of wine on an empty stomach and being pressed against a very handsome drow saw Caleb’s mind wandering more often than not.

“Caleb, I think I’m losing you,” Essek murmured teasingly, when Caleb’s attention had drifted again. “Am I truly so dull?”

“Take it as a compliment to your newfound abilities that I don’t have to think about what I’m doing,” he responded easily, as Essek led them in a half spin.

“I do have an excellent teacher.”

Caleb took a moment to process that, then snorted. “I daresay you’ve surpassed me by now.”

“Yes, I probably have,” Essek hummed thoughtfully, barely controlling a smirk. Caleb rolled his eyes good-naturedly and went to respond – until something on top of his foot kept him from stepping forward, and he kneed Essek in the thigh. Essek stumbled and let out a short yell, even with his levitation spell in place, and grasped for Caleb’s arms as he lurched backwards. Caleb, who was ever-so-slightly tipsy and didn’t have much in the way of muscle mass anyway, went tumbling after him and Essek’s back collided with the bookshelf. They waited in an expectant silence for something to fall off the shelf, but through the mercy of somebody’s god, nothing did.

“Surpassed me, have you?” Caleb asked after a moment, his breath tousling Essek’s hair. For a moment, his eyes widened in mortification, until he snorted, actually _snorted_, and a soft chuckle rumbled through his chest. It was different to the polite, somewhat condescending laughs Caleb had heard from him before; this one was raw, and genuine, building in intensity unabashedly and reverberating in his chest until Caleb could feel it in his own. It was infectious, and against his own will he found himself slackening against him, chortling softly.

“Perhaps,” Essek eventually exhaled with his head resting against the spines. “We will leave the dancing there for today.”

“Before somebody gets severely injured, ja,” Caleb agreed breathlessly, but didn't move to let him up. They were pressed entirely together, from thighs to chest, Essek's hands still latched to Caleb's upper arms. “Or we end up causing, ah, property damage.”

He still didn't move, and Essek didn't either, and the moment stretched on. He couldn't stop his eyes from flickering down to focus on his lips, as much as he resisted it. They were testing the waters, as Caleb understood it, slowly transitioning from people who both had something to gain from a professional relationship to… whatever they were now. Perhaps not quite good friends, perhaps not even allied to the same cause, but there was an increasingly larger part of Caleb that just... _liked_ him. As a person. Here it was, a fantastic opportunity to 'play the game' and manipulate Essek to his heart's content, and all he could think about was if Essek wanted it as badly as he did.

_I don’t want to use him. And I don’t want him to use me. _

_Shit._

“Essek,” Caleb began abruptly. “There’s something I need to ask you.”

“Yes?” he purred, and his gaze flicked up to meet Caleb’s from where it was slowly raking its way down his throat. Willing away the flush that had crawled back up his neck and face, Caleb took a breath, and prayed to whoever was listening that he wasn’t about to make a critical mistake.

“I – I want to make sure we’re on the sa-“

_Hey Caleb! Wanted to make sure you’re okay, Fjord said you disappeared with Essek but Nott’s a bit worried, and Caduceus needs to know if–_

A moment of silence, in which Caleb attempted to comprehend Jester’s sudden voice in his head and Essek stared at him expectantly. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t grateful for a distraction from the mess he was about to make, though, taking the opportunity to step away and let Essek up from the bookshelf. Dutifully, he attempted to ignore the way his heart fell at the sudden loss of contact.

_–you’ll be home, because we’re making pancakes for dinner! Also, if you’re having sex with Essek right now that’s okay, we’ll save some for you!_

“_Hallo_, Jester,” Caleb began hesitantly, and after a split second of confusion, Essek started grinning again. “Yes, I’m with Essek, and no, not… like that. I’ll be home tonight, please tell Nott I’m fine. I will see you soon.”

He finished his allocated 25 words, while Essek’s grinning grew into quiet laughter, the sound sweeter than the music of any bard. Gods, how had he not _realised _it wasn't just a game anymore?

“Is it always that… sudden?” he asked, feeling like Jester’s voice was still bouncing around in his skull.

“Oh, absolutely. Has she not done it to you before?”

“We’re usually all together, the need has never – has never come up,” he admitted, distracted mind stumbling over the words. _I don’t want to manipulate him – I like him just because he’s nice - I don’t want to manipulate him – I like him just because –_

“What is it she needed? Nothing urgent, I’m assuming, considering you haven’t yet gone racing out the door. And what were you going to say before?”

Ah, that’s right – the terrifying realisation that he genuinely liked the very handsome man in front of him, and the even more terrifying realisation that he’d been about to tell him exactly that. He opened his mouth to respond, or deflect, or do _anything_, but nothing came out.

“Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten,” Essek teased, mercifully unaware. Caleb managed a weak smile.

“Seems I cannot – cannot handle Xhorhasian wine as well as I can Dwendalian,” he finally choked out. Once a coward, always a coward. “She was wondering where I was, is all. I’d better go, before they send a search party. I can, ah, I can see myself out.”

A look passed over Essek’s face, a momentary crease of his eyebrows and a downturn to his lips that indicated he knew something was off – and a moment later, it was swept away.

“Of course, I will hardly keep you waiting. Thank you, Caleb, for this. Your tutelage has been invaluable.”

Much more stiffly than he draped himself onto it, Caleb slid off the desk, striding quickly towards the door before his own cowardice could catch up to him. He could feel Essek’s eyes on him yet again, but he found it was nowhere near as enjoyable. He forced himself to stop, just as he reached the threshold.

“Essek. Don’t, don’t forget to look after yourself, ja? You don’t – I’m not – we have precious few allies in the world, and even fewer friends. We do try to take care of the ones we have.”

His eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled softly in response, and for a second Caleb cursed both his own self-doubt and the way his stomach did a backflip at the sight. “Duly noted. Have a good evening, Caleb.”

He took his time on the way back, walking in the direction of the Xhorhaus but without much purpose. He let his mind wander, from the shape of the spires that pierced the dark sky, to the artificial constellations that hung eternally above him, to the lingering warm feeling in his chest that mixed with guilt and fear, and to the growing realisation that what he actually wanted from Essek was in fact very different to what he initially thought. 

Some old, merciless part of his mind screeched at the notion, forcing fears and poisoned questions into his mind – _whatcanyougetwhatusedoeshehavedothebenefitsoutweightherisks_. But there was a newer part, a more experienced self that had been reforged through warmth and love, that tempered the blind fear with anxious caution. He’d taken a gamble, months ago, in a tavern in the Empire filled with fools, and it’d paid off a million times more than he ever thought it would. Essek Thelyss was another gamble, one that would fuel the fire in his chest to either warm him or burn him alive. But he did love calculated risks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Caleb: yea nott im totally chill with the mutual manipulation, i know what im doing. its going to be perfectly fine.  
Caleb, one chapter and an emotional speech later: o fuck.
> 
> also, the topics in the books (retrocausality, the arrow of time, quantum superposition) do actually exist in general physics/quantum mechanics, it’s super weird you guys should check it out. dont forget im higgity-heck on tumblr too!


	5. 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Caleb gets a few answers, but significantly more questions. Fjord has a terrible case of wrong-place-wrong-time, but Nott dispenses some wisdom to fix it.

Something was wrong, Caleb realised. Something was wrong and, besides from the obviously looming threat of the ball, he really didn’t understand what it was.

It was subtle, subtle enough that he hadn’t even noticed at first. Essek seemed fine, on the exterior – all confident smirks, witty remarks and beautifully effective instruction as he guided Caleb through his latest spell. He _looked_ as perfect as he normally did, and though Caleb knew appearances are more often deceiving than not he couldn’t help but admire the way his lips moved when he spoke the verbal components of the spell. Couldn’t help but wonder what they would feel like– _nope_.

So, Essek was coy and clever, as usual, and Caleb was desperately wishing his appreciation of the other man was just skin-deep, as usual, and they were studying together, as usual. It should’ve been fine, and yet it wasn’t; Caleb could see it in the way he constantly shifted in his chair, frowning intensely when he thought Caleb wouldn’t see.

“I do not have the material components on me, unfortunately, so we will have to leave it as it is,” Essek said as Caleb returned to reality from his own internal daydream. “Another time, perhaps.”

“Another time,” he echoed, still wondering about the way Essek had grimaced when he believed Caleb was busy copying down the spell. “You know, now that we’re the only ones home, it would be a good time to continue the, the other part of these lessons. More private, and less likely for somebody to, ah, barge in on us; partially why I stayed behind in the first place. Not that I think you need the practice, of course, it’s probably just good to be prepared.”

Essek smirked, though Caleb swore he could see the cracks in the mask. “If I didn’t know better, I’d presume you absolutely didn’t mean teaching me to dance.”

Days ago, he would’ve taken the bait and fired back something equally as provocative, but he couldn’t speak past the lump in his throat. _He still thinks we’re playing at this. I’m compromising the tentative relationship we already have._

“Duly noted,” he finally managed, his voice scratchy and his ears red. “So, are you up for it? The – the dancing, I mean, not–”

“I know what you mean, Caleb,” Essek interrupted him, laughing slightly. Even if something seemed wrong, he was glad to see him smiling. “Yes, we should make the most of the time we have, before the others return.”

Caleb stood, gently cajoling Frumpkin from his position on his lap and getting a betrayed mewl in return. They still didn’t have any music, given that a) Caleb didn’t know anybody who played an instrument, and b) even if he did, he didn’t have any instruments, and c) nobody was supposed to know that Essek was learning to dance anyway. With Caleb’s precise inner clock and Essek’s history with dunamancy, though, they managed to stay relatively in time – it would be fairly difficult to dabble in time magic without a passable sense of rhythm and tempo, after all.

“Now, where did we leave off?” Caleb muttered to himself as Essek closed the distance between them. After the amount of time they’d spent doing this, he’d almost acclimatised to being pressed again him for long periods. Almost.

Too much time passed before Essek answered, making Caleb look up and catch just the end of a grimace. He shook himself, slightly, and offered the most charming smirk he had in his arsenal.

“Last time, we went careening into a bookcase, if I recall correctly,” he provided. “Though before that, you were focusing on teaching me to lead.”

Caleb hummed softly, taking one of Essek’s hands in his and putting his other on his shoulder. Part of him ached to be able to touch Essek whenever he felt like it; that part was quickly set aside.

“So I was,” he said, choosing not to point out that Essek was already a very good dancer and their continued lessons were mostly redundant; he liked to think he had quite good self-control, but some opportunities were too tempting. Given Essek’s awareness of his own skills, he was probably just as aware as to what was going on, but no objections were voiced.

“I’ll attempt not to step on your feet this time,” Essek said mildly as they moved into a slow rhythm, and Caleb smiled.

“Much appreciated. How are the, ah, the preparations for the ball? Only a few days away now,” he asked, and Essek shrugged slightly.

“Well enough, at least from my end, but I’m looking forward to leaving it behind for another year. Your expert tutelage has made it much less painful, though,” he added, and the combination of heat and playfulness gaze set Caleb’s ears a flaming red.

“The – the least I could do,” he said, stumbling over the words. He didn’t know if Essek’s self-satisfied smirk was infuriating or endearing.

“I don’t suppose you’d be willing to–” he begun, then cut himself off as he… froze for a moment, his tongue clenched between his teeth. He kept in time, somehow, but there was a definite scuff to his gait that was hurriedly righted. When he caught Caleb looking at him, a pained curl to his lip quickly disappeared.

“Sorry, I mis-stepped; managed not to cause any property damage, this time. Anyway–”

“Essek,” Caleb said abruptly, and slowed them to a stop. Essek frowned at him, seemingly puzzled – but he looked too much like the picture of confusion, too perfectly emulating that emotion. Yes, he was an actor, and a very good one at that, but Caleb had the advantage of a fairly keen eye and months of knowing him.

“Is something the matter, Caleb?” he questioned, and tilted his head to the side slightly. It was charming, almost disarmingly so, but Caleb was not one to get distracted.

“You don’t, ah, you don’t seem okay. Are you alright?” he asked, carefully scanning his features for any discomfort, and praying that Essek didn’t realise the true depth of his concern.

“I’m perfectly fine – I only mis-stepped. I didn’t take you for someone who would fret so easily,” he teased, but there it was – he shifted slightly on his feet, and his jaw clenched. Caleb fixed him with a look, and stepped back, pulling his hands away and letting them drop to his sides. He let the silence hang between them in quiet stubbornness. Honestly, he didn’t understand some peoples’ inability to show a little weakness.

Essek looked uneasily to the side, and after a moment, he sighed. “Not as good an actor as I thought I was, it would seem. Though I’m not surprised you noticed, of all people.”

The mask broke, and Essek’s shoulders slumped while he pressed a hand to the small of his back. Caleb frowned at him, trying not to pry but too overcurious to truly stop himself.

“Are you in pain? I can contact Caduceus, or Jester,” Caleb offered, anxious hands floating over Essek’s body but not sure how to help. “They’ve only gone back to the tailors, so they shouldn’t be too–”

“No, please no,” Essek interrupted through a clenched jaw. “Your friends are nice, but this is not something I want many people to know. Though I feel I owe you an explanation.”

Caleb couldn’t deny his persistent curiosity at what exactly Essek didn’t want anyone to know and had somewhat joined the dots in his own mind – still, it seemed too much to demand Essek spill his darkest secrets.

“You do not have to explain yourself, Essek. What you tell me about this… situation is not my decision to make,” he said gently, honestly, moving to take a seat back at the desk and motioning sharply for Essek to do the same. Essek wordlessly obliged, and sat heavily beside him.

“That is true,” he said, absently twirling a quill in his long fingers. Caleb averted his gaze from the sight, or he knew his mind would start wandering. “And your insistence at not offending my sensibilities is endearing. But I – I would like for you to know, and you should know. Just in case.”

He didn’t continue, whether out of reluctance or self-consciousness Caleb didn’t know, but he filled the gaps for him. “You use levitation as a mobility aid, then.”

Essek laughed mirthlessly. “Good thing you’re so clever, otherwise I would’ve had to tell you that myself. Makes my half of this conversation much simpler.”

“I admit, I had wondered about your constant levitation before. And it causes you pain, on a day to day basis?” Caleb asked, brushing past Essek’s frivolous dialogue. He needed to know, so Essek’s verbal self-defence mechanisms could wait. “How often?”

Again, he shifted, but the discomfort seemed to be figurative rather than literal. As worrisome as an aversion to emotional openness could be, his uneasiness was partly comforting, at least to Caleb; it was a reminder that for all his status, he was still just a person. “It – it depends. Some days are worse than others; oftentimes just a twinge at the small of my back, but occasionally it borders on unbearable. But it is manageable with the levitation, and I’ve grown accustomed to it. Most people don’t notice the discomfort, or even the levitation.”

“_Ja_, well, I noticed,” Caleb countered. No way in the nine hells was he going to be downplaying his own pain; he got enough of the from Fjord and Beau already, thanks. “I would reckon that more people notice the floating than you think, but tend to, ah, chalk it up to subtle boasting of your abilities. The way you conduct yourself, I don’t imagine many would guess you are at all hindered. Not many know, then? Other than myself.”

“My position is very important, Caleb. If the Dens knew that the Shadowhand was anything other than perfectly capable, I’d be out of a job like _that_,” he said, snapping his fingers. “My Queen knows, and a few select members of Den Thelyss, and now yourself. I would _prefer_ to keep it that way.”

“Nobody else will know,” Caleb promised, and it was true. The things Caleb could do with this sort of leverage were great in number and terrible in nature, and he intended to stay as far away from them as possible. Perhaps weeks ago, he would’ve jumped at the opportunity to gain the upper hand; right then, he was more stunned by the degree of trust Essek had placed in him. And perhaps a little bit pleased, that he’d chosen Caleb, specifically, to know. That he’d _wanted_ him to know.

“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry,” he offered, after a pulse of reflective silence.

“It’s a fact of my life, and has been for some time. There is nothing further that can be done. Your concern is appreciated, but I’m not looking for pity–”

“_Nein, nein_, that’s not what I meant,” Caleb backpedalled hurriedly. “I don’t pity you; if anything, I am impressed that you are able to seem so unruffled all the time. I’m just – I’m sorry, that you have to, or feel you must, ignore your own pain all the time. And if it makes you feel any better, I’m probably – probably the most physically weak person I know, so I’m not about to go judging you.”

That got a small smile out of him, and Caleb felt a twinge of pride knowing his comforting abilities were not total garbage. With surge of emotion that was equal parts courage and affection, he placed a gentle hand on Essek’s leg, just above his knee. His gaze snapped towards him – for a moment Caleb feared he would pull away – but in the next second he had relaxed into the touch.

Lips parted slightly, he looked like Caleb had struck him rather than attempted to reassure him. After a moment, a warm hand slid over Caleb’s and entangled itself in his fingers while the other pressed into the small of his back; mentally, he breathed a sigh of relief that he hadn’t been brushed off.

“Thank you. You – you’re very kind,” he said, finally letting their eyes meet. Eye contact wasn’t one of Caleb’s favourite things, but he couldn’t look away from the swirling grey even if he wanted to. Some things were beautiful enough that your attention was helpless to stray anywhere else, like a planet pulled into orbit around a star.

He huffed a mirthless laugh. “What kindness I had was abandoned a long time ago, I think. What I have told you is just the truth.”

“The truth,” he mused. “Then before your friends return, I need to – ah, clarify something. Make sure we are on the same page.”

Essek’s face tilted up towards him, the distance between them having grown infinitesimal but for the palpable tension in the air. The rest of the room, and the rest of the world, simply ceased to exist. His mouth was drier than sandpaper, and apprehension turned his veins to fire in the silence. Surely, Essek would be able to hear his heart’s thunderous rhythm in his chest.

“…Ja?” _Please just think I’m trying to get something out you, don’t let him know, I can’t compromise this–_

“You understand I am the left hand of my Queen, yes? And I typically deal in subterfuge, undercover work, manipulation. I tend not to open myself to potential political weakness, you understand. That we’ve become quite – quite close is not typical for me.”

“I believe I know where you’re going with this.” Their hands were still clasped together, but he couldn’t bring himself to pull his away; Essek was about to set a clear boundary between them, Caleb assumed, but if he wanted to keep the fantasy going for a little while longer, then that was nobody’s business but his own.

“You – you do?” he asked, incredulity tempering his voice and eyebrows shooting up.

“I understand where you’re coming from, Essek,” Caleb said, bitterness and regret settling in the pit of his stomach even as he attempted to keep his voice level. “We are defectors from the Empire, and you don’t know if you can trust us. It would be reasonable, I suppose, if you wished to end our… friendship, or make us prove our allegiance–”

“No,” he interrupted, and paused, like the words were stuck in his throat. “By now I’m sure your group is trustworthy, but you in particular are interesting. To me. And I would like to ask you–”

_Slam._

“Hey, we’re home!” _Are you fucking kidding me?_

The chimes above the door clattered loudly, audible even though the walls, and so too came the typical chatter and chaos that followed the Nein everywhere they went. Barely two seconds later, and the door to the study went swinging open, revealing Fjord carrying a variety of bags and large boxes.

“Hey, when are you going to be done? We’re going to need you out here to–” he cut himself off abruptly, taking in the scene before him and turning an odd new shade of green. In his defence, it must’ve looked odd; Caleb sitting with his hand entwined in Essek’s, who was glaring at Fjord with enough enmity to decimate a lesser man. Odd, or suggestive.

“Or not,” he conceded, awkwardly closing the door again as he spoke. “Just, you know, whenever you’re ready, or when you’ve finished doing whatever you’re doing in here, totally up to you… I’ll see myself out.”

“Right. Thank you, Fjord,” Caleb muttered through clenched teeth, turning back to Essek when the door finally clicked shut and hurried footsteps faded away. Dear gods, he loved his friends; just a little bit less than usual right then.

“This is why I don’t live with others,” Essek sighed, the tips of his ears having turned a slightly darker shade of purple than the rest of him. It would’ve been charmingly attractive, had Caleb not been uncomfortably aware of the whispering he could hear through the other side of the door.

“A very, ah, sensible decision. He’s – he’s probably going to ask me about that later. He’ll likely assume I’m trying to ‘pull an Avantika.’ Long and _complicated_ story,” he said, and Essek’s puzzled frown. “Regardless, what were you going to say? I probably have a few minutes before I get dragged out there.”

It was odd, what happened next; the colour drained from Essek’s face, the look of someone who was sincerely regretting open their mouth in the first place passing across his face. He pulled his hand away from Caleb’s pliant grip, taking it and fidgeting with his own fingers. He _never_ fidgeted, not unless something was very wrong.

And then – it was gone. The mask he wore slipped back up and into place as Caleb watched in puzzled silence; the silver of his eyes dulled to a cool flint, and instantly he was perfectly unruffled again, not a trace of mortal vulnerability to be seen. He was the Shadowhand of the Kryn Dynasty, collected at all times, and under no circumstances was he nervous because of the words of a human from the Empire.

“Nothing of too much importance,” he responded coolly, just barely dragging a composed, polite smile into place. Jarred into a stunned silence, Caleb said nothing. “I’m simply pleased that you’ve allied yourselves with the Dynasty, is all. And less pleased, as to what conclusions your friends will attempt to draw from that little scene.”

“That’s… all you wished to say?”

Slightly, his jaw clenched; but all he said was, “Unless you have something you’d like to add?”

He scrutinised him for a moment more, before letting it go. If he suddenly didn’t want to continue on from what he was saying before, Caleb could deal with that. Even if he would likely be spending most of his waking moments from then on wondering about it, it wasn’t like Essek occupying his thoughts was anything new.

“No, I guess not.”

A moment passed, in which something unspoken hung in the air between them; but for the life of him, Caleb couldn’t figure out what it was. All he could recognise was the disquieting suspicion that they had been on the edge of something big, something important, and the universe – or the powers that be, or fate, or whatever you’d like to call it – had decided to let that ‘something’ slip through their intertwined fingers for the moment.

“I imagine your friends are burning to show off their purchases, then. I will see myself out,” he said with a solid note of finality, rising from his seat with the slightest wince. Even in the midst of personal drama and emotional exchanges, the pain didn’t magically go away. It didn’t seem fair, that agony should take up such a place in one’s life when there are far better things to be experienced; but that was the way it was, at least for some. Infirmity wasn’t the sort of thing that would let you forget it about it until later – it demanded attention, whether you had attention to give or not.

Mindful to watch for any further discomfort, Caleb followed him to the door, hoping Essek could leave without attracting the attention of the whole house. Carefully, he eased open the door and slipped out soundlessly, heading directly for the entryway to the house. Before he moved out of Caleb’s reach, he took him firmly but gently by the shoulder, turning him around.

“For what it’s worth, and for whatever sense this may make to you; you don’t have to pretend with us,” he murmured, conscious of the others upstairs. “You might find we’re fairly accepting of people that are – are maybe a little bit lost, and a little bit hurting.”

Momentarily, the mask slipped, and Essek looked like something in him was melting; until it was covered up again. “I think perhaps you are unaware of how much of my time I spend acting, Caleb, even towards you. But I will think on it. Have a good afternoon.”

He didn’t see Essek again until the ball, and it was torture for every minute.

-

In the meantime, however, he had a torture of a different kind to endure. Namely, the overzealous questioning and adjudicating of a haphazard group of people that didn’t know how to mind their own business.

The walk from the front door, up the stairs and into the war room – which had been temporarily converted to the ‘room where we put our fancy clothes’ – became an eternity in his mind as he ran through the variety of questions they would hurl at him. No matter; even if he’d accidentally killed Essek, he was fairly certain they’d still stay by him. As well as help get rid of the body and flee the country.

Even from behind the door, he could hear the excited chatter and the careful rustle of fabric, as well as Fjord’s resigned sighs. Taking a fortifying breath of his own, he shouldered the door open and slipped in. For a moment, he wasn’t noticed; Jester was preoccupied with examining a seam in the navy-blue coat Beau was holding up, while Nott and Caduceus carefully rifled through another box that was just a mess of fabric to Caleb. Fjord sat slouched at the table, but he was carefully eyeing one of the boxes. Eventually, Nott spotted him in the doorway.

“Caleb, you’re here!” Immediate silence. “Has, er, has Essek left?”

“_Ja_, just then. So, what do you need me for?”

The general quiet continued, as Nott, Beau and Jester looked askance at Fjord, who looked both very guilty and much like he’d rather be anywhere else. From the other side of the room Caduceus just examined Caleb in that way he did, as if he could see into his past, present and future. It was a little disquieting.

“Well, initially Jester wanted to check that your clothes for the ball fit properly,” Caduceus rumbled. “But now that Fjord’s delivered some, ah, interesting news, I think we might get a little distracted.”

Fjord winced slightly and spread his hands towards Caleb apologetically. “I’m sorry I didn’t ask you first, Caleb, but I’m just worried.”

“_Nein, nein_, I understand you’re concerned,” he sighed, taking a seat across from Fjord and setting his elbows heavily on the table. “But it’s – it’s not like Avantika and Uk’otoa.”

Beau frowned over the top of the box she was moving. “Do you mean you’re not trying to, like, manipulate him, or you’re not screwing him? I can’t tell at this point.”

“Obviously, they’re boning,” Jester interjected. “What do you think they do in the library for all that time?”

“Oh, _gross_, I go in there sometimes–”

“Fuck’s sake, we are _not sleeping together_,” Caleb sputtered. “I don’t know where you’ve all gotten that idea, but we _study_ in the library. Nothing else.”

“Then what were you doing with your hand in his pants?” Jester asked innocently.

“That is _not_ what where I had my hands–”

“Well, that’s what Fjord said when he got out of the library–”

“–Nope, I did _not_ say that, I said they were holding hands or something. It was some sort of moment they were having, and I didn’t mean to intrude, but then Essek was _glaring_ at me, and I just think we need to be careful about him.”

Jester frowned and sat on the edge of the table next to Fjord. “Why? We’re friends with the Dynasty, and he must like us at least a bit to take us everywhere, like, all the time. _I_ like him. I think he needs friends.”

“I know you like him, Jessie,” Beau said, in that soft tone she used only with Jester. “But he just seems _shifty_ to me. I mean, he’s constantly reminding us about all those ‘favours’ we owe him, and he hasn’t told us what they are yet. What if he wants us to go slaughter some other Den, and we can’t refuse because then _he’ll_ kill _us_?”

It was a good point; but the one argument Caleb had, that he’d been repaying that debt by discretely teaching Essek to dance, would blow their cover entirely.

“He hasn’t brought up the favours recently,” he protested weakly.

“Yeah, recently. We don’t know what he’s planning in the long run, even if you think he’s hot.”

“Perhaps we’re forgetting,” Caduceus interposed, before anybody to respond to that last part. “That he can be both ultimately aiming for his own goals and trying to foster good relationships – so are we, after all. These things aren’t mutually exclusive, I think is the phrase.”

A reflective silence fell, as it often did when Caduceus provided one of his little nuggets of wisdom. He made good points, when he decided it was important to share them.

“Listen, you know I don’t trust people easily,” Nott eventually said as she slid into one of the chairs. “But you’ve spent the most time with him, Caleb, and we’ve talked about this before; even if I don’t trust him, I’ll trust your judgement of him.”

Five pairs of eyes flickered towards Caleb, who had been attempting to fade into the background for the past minute and seven seconds. He knew what the cautious, guarded option would be; ensure Essek doesn’t get any closer to them, assume he had their worst interests at heart, and continue happily attempting to manipulate and take advantage of him as Shadowhand of the Kryn Dynasty. But another option had opened, one revealed by midnight conversations, private lessons of two different kinds, and the give and take between two people who just clicked in a way Caleb had only experienced a few times in his life.

“I know that we don’t know a lot about him, or about his goals,” he began slowly. “But I don’t think he’s another Avantika; with the time and resources he has put into us, it doesn’t seem like he wants to use us and dispose of us. We’re not sure about our place in the world yet, so furthering our relationship can only be, ah, beneficial in the long run, ja?”

Beat. “And what about you, personally?” Nott asked gently.

“What about me, personally?” he echoed, uncomfortably aware of the direction this conversation was about to go in. Gods, he preferred it when they were debating matters of political manoeuvring rather than what, exactly, he found attractive about Essek. Which was all of him, not that he particularly wanted to start talking about that.

“Well, you’re closest with him out of all of us–”

“_Real_ close, if you guys know what I mean.”

“–so, do you like him? Hypothetically, if you actually did have your hand down his pants, would you be happy with that?”

Even without seeing them, he knew the tips of his ears had gone red and he grit his teeth. “I was not groping him in there.”

“I said hypothetically!”

“Well, in this hypothetical situation, he presumably would have no interest in that the same way he has no interest in having my hand down his pants in reality.”

“Hey, that’s pretty harsh,” Jester protested. “I’m sure he would love to get groped by you. I’m sure he has a great dick, too.”

“Okay, now that we’ve covered the topics that actually matter, like our personal safety, I will be excusing myself. Just – stay safe, Caleb,” Fjord said, lurching out of his seat and through the door.

Beau paused. “Did he just tell you to use protection, or am I misinterpreting–”

“Alright,” Caduceus interrupted, with the most mercy Caleb had ever seen from another person in his life. “Maybe we’ll leave the speculation about what Caleb and Essek do in their free time to another day. My family has had enough conversations like this for me to know it typically ends in violence.”

He rose to his full height, shooing Beau and Jester out the door the same way a mother might herd a pair of rambunctious children. Nott stayed, smiling at Caduceus as they left and closed the door firmly behind them.

“Okay, the whole hypothetical scenario was mainly to get them to start leaving, namely Fjord,” she explained, scuttling across the table to sit cross legged in front of him.

Caleb smiled slightly, more so with his eyes than his mouth. “I appreciate it, Nott.”

“But you know I can see something else is going on, right? I know you better than that.”

“_Nein_, I know,” he agreed. “To be honest, I would suspect they know me better than that, too. I don’t understand what’s going on enough to articulate it to anybody, you know?”

“Try me.”

“I just – he is very mysterious, and I do not understand where he stands in all this.”

“I thought it was a transaction between the two of you, and you were just having some nerd fun along the way. Has that changed dramatically, or something?” she asked, head cocked as she examined him.

Caleb pulled a face at the phrase ‘nerd fun,’ but moved on. “I… can’t tell. When we spoke today, he behaved very oddly about the whole topic. I don’t understand; does he wish to change the transaction involved in all this, or stop it altogether, or does he not like–”

He cut himself off abruptly. _I’m worried that he doesn’t like me personally, and that he doesn’t return my own feelings. For gods’ sakes, I’m not a teenager._

“That’s not dumb, Caleb,” Nott said, understanding his thoughts the way only she could. “You like him a lot, I know you do – that you want him to care for you, and like spending time with you just makes sense. You can give yourself that, I promise.”

Caleb huffed something between a shaky sigh and a laugh. “Thank you, Nott. Truly.”

She smiled back at him, so full of warmth and unabashed love that he thanked the gods they’d been thrown in prison at the same time. “You want to sort this out? Talk to him about it, plainly. The both of you are too clever and charismatic for your own good.”

“I – I will.”

She gave a short, satisfied sigh, and ruffled his hair in her small hands. Placing the lightest of kisses on his forehead, she smiled at him, then hopped off the table.

“You’ll sort it out, Caleb. And if you can’t, then we’ll help.”

She disappeared through the doorway, leaving Caleb with a heart equal parts heavy and light as air.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Worry not my friends, there will absolutely be a scene in which I go into fantastic detail about what they’re wearing to the ball. As always, I'm higgity-heck on tumblr!


	6. 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The ball finally arrives. Shenanigans and heartfelt conversations ensue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> gonna be honest, most of this was written in a five hour block in the middle of the night, so if you catch any mistakes please let me know

Overall, it seemed like going to the ball could be an excellent opportunity for them – they could make connections, present a promising social image and hopefully prove themselves in the eyes of the Dynasty. There was a chance they would colossally fuck it up and have to flee the country, but Caleb had been hoping everybody would be on their best behaviour and let the night progress in peace. It was just the matter of actually preparing for the ball that was painful, at least for some.

“What in fuck’s name is going to take two and a half hours?”

Nott paused her careful combing of Jester’s hair, levelling a glare at Fjord over the top of Jester’s horns. Kneeling on the floor in front of her, Jester herself also followed suit.

“How long do you think it’ll take to do hair, makeup and get a woman into an entire gown, Fjord? Give me your best estimate,” Nott deadpanned. Fjord shrugged.

“Don’t you just–” he made a gesture that was probably supposed to look like putting a dress on, but looked more like he was trying to deadlift something. “–chuck it on and go? Like, ten minutes or so?”

From behind him, Caleb just sighed while Jester rolled her eyes with as much force as she could without jostling Nott’s grip on her hair. Nott just shook her head and continued her work. “You have no appreciation for the finer things in life.”

“Well, what do I know? I’m a fuckin’ sailor.”

“Aside from Fjord’s lack of cosmetic knowledge,” Caleb interjected, before the bickering could escalate – as entertaining as that would be. “Has anybody seen my components pouch? It isn’t where I last left it.”

“Oh, I had to move it when we were moving things around in the war-turned-fancy-dress room,” Nott said, then frowned. “What do you need your spell components for? I don’t think they’ll let you take it into the ball.”

Caleb shifted from side to side on his feet, resisting the urge to avert his eyes. “You know I am paranoid; even if I only have a few things on me, it won’t hurt to be prepared, _ja_?”

“Would we really need to? Surely these people would know what they’re doing,” Fjord said, frowning down at Caleb in puzzlement. “There are going to be guards all over the place, right?”

“It can’t hurt,” Nott said, beginning an intricate braid on the right side of Jester’s head. “Besides, since you only need a few spell components, Fjord can summon his sword, Jester, Beau and Deucy don’t need weapons, we should be all set. Just in case.”

Jester frowned. “What about you, Nott? What are you going to do with your crossbow?”

“Oh, you can fit literally anything in a ballgown. I could take my entire lab if I wanted to.”

“_Please_ do not do that,” Fjord said, grimacing. “If we get kicked out, I’m never letting you hear the end of it.”

“Plus, Essek might literally murder us for that one,” Jester chimed in, then added an exaggerated wink. “Except Caleb, because he thinks he’s pretty.”

“_Ja_, alright, I’m going,” Caleb said hurriedly, cursing the flush that automatically crept onto his cheeks. “Have fun getting ready.”

“We _wi-ill_!” Jester called after him.

And they _were_ having fun, even Fjord, who was trying his best to seem like he wasn’t into it. They needed a distraction from the lurking threat of Obann and the Laughing Hand, the press of the war, and Yasha’s haunting anti-presence. From the feel of it, it seemed like all of Rosohna needed a break too; the anticipatory crackle in the air and heightened bustle of the already packed city had come like a breath of fresh air. For just a moment, Caleb could imagine what the city was like unmarred by war and political tension. It was a future he prayed they all lived to see.

After carefully extracting his components pouch from the mess that was the War Room, he continued downstairs, intent on killing the few hours he had to spare with his nose buried in the latest book Essek had given him. The sound of fists against leather led him into the training room, revealing Beau laying into a punching bag.

“You’re training _now_?” He asked incredulously, the concept of willingly subjecting oneself to physical exercise abhorrent to begin with, let alone when they had to actually do things later that day.

“Gotta stay on the grind, and all that,” she responded, hardly out of breath. “’Sides, it’s not like I’m gonna take ages getting ready like Jester and Nott; I can’t be bothered putting that much effort into how I look for this.”

That seemed reasonable, especially given her fraught history with her parents and her personal presentation. “Fair enough. Perhaps you’ll like it while you’re there, though; a good opportunity to meet important people.”

Sending another kick into the punching bag, she inclined her head in agreement. “That’s mainly what I’m trying to get out of this shit. The other’s will probably like it though – including Fjord, even if he’s pretending that he won’t.”

“I hope so. We need the break,” Caleb said, and when Beau just nodded and went back to her training, he turned to leave. But what Beau said next was quiet, enough so that Caleb would’ve missed it had the sound of movement not abruptly ceased.

“Yasha might’ve enjoyed all this.”

He paused and looked back at her; she’d stopped assailing the bag, her fists hanging still by her sides and her back to him. Even if he’d had the sapience of Caduceus or Jester’s comforting presence, he knew there was nothing he could say to make it better. Even as time and distance separated them from the Obann, the Laughing Hand and their unwilling slave, the burden weighed no less heavily.

“_Ja_, maybe she would’ve,” Caleb eventually agreed. “She would’ve liked the new experience, I think. Maybe we’ll just have to love it on her behalf, until we get her back.”

Still facing away, Beau’s shoulders loosened slightly, and a bittersweet sigh escaped her. “Yeah, maybe.”

With a lingering look, Caleb turned and retreated to his room.

-

Three hours, a very large ballgown, gratuitous use of hair gel and a quick trim to Caleb’s beard later, the Lucid Bastion loomed around the group of them, equal parts daunting and awe-inspiring. Overlooking the entirety of Rosohna, the massive court twinkled with dancing lights, the vegetation of the neatly kept gardens catching the light and turning the area into a sea of stars. Amongst the jaggedly beautiful buildings hundreds of elaborately dressed invitees flocked towards the centre, where the doors to an ornate palace had been flung open.

Caleb wasn’t intimidated, per se; he’d been to multiple formal occasions during his time at Soltryce, and loath as he was to acknowledge it, he was grateful for whatever degree of preparation he had. He was more viscerally aware that they’d be under careful watch – and knowing he and his friends’ track record, he was just hoping they wouldn’t fuck it up colossally.

“Okay, do we remember the rules?” Beau asked, grimacing towards the palace.

Jester rolled her eyes good-naturedly, and looped her arm in Beau’s. “No physical fighting unless somebody else starts it, no actively trying to embarrass nobles unless we can do it politely, and no getting drunk until everybody else is plastered,” she recited. “It’s going to be fine, Beau. We’ll have so much fun!”

Beau just smiled at her, the hardness around her eyes softening, and the look stayed plastered to her face even once Jester had turned away. They made quite an impressive pair – Jester’s gown was a glittering affair of sky blue, fading into gold in the lower half where it flared out sharply from her waist. Her short sleeves curved off the shoulder, showing off an elaborate necklace in gold. She matched perfectly with the golden trim and accents on Beau’s cerulean three-piece. Though she’d popped the collar on it, the pair of them looked regal; Caleb was quietly glad Beau hadn’t cut the sleeves off.

Jester led her and Nott ahead, leaving the others to catch up. The palace loomed impossibly larger as they drew closer, stories and stories of glass and marble spiral upwards to a point that looked both elegant and dangerous. From somewhere inside the towering doors, a lilting string quartet played.

“Does the Queen really live here? This place is fuckin’ huge,” Fjord murmured, glancing around at the graceful arches of the building. He shifted slightly in his red and black tailcoat, disturbing his cravat then immediately readjusting it. As fantastic of an actor and a charmer as he was, he couldn’t have been entirely comfortable clothed in clothing so expensive it was almost ridiculous; they probably weren’t required to wear waistcoats on the docks.

“From what I have gathered, it has a variety of uses, other than her residence,” Caleb said aside, keeping an eye on the attendees milling around them. They attracted a few glances, but no more than was normal. “I believe it functions as a courthouse on occasion, and has quite extensive library for the use of the court and the Dens. At least, that is what Essek has told me.”

Fjord shot him a sideways glance, but mercifully didn’t say anything.

“It seems a bit much to me,” Fjord commented under his breath instead. “Pretty, though.”

Without another word, they passed through the imposing entryway and foyer, revealing a magnificent ballroom bathed in the refracted light of a glittering chandelier that hung from the roof. Ornately carved pillars lined the sides, dotted with elegant sculptures, leading to a large, raised dais on the other end of the hall. A few figures, too far away to make out any detail, huddled to one side of it with their heads bowed slightly. No familiar mantle in sight, and Caleb deflated slightly with disappointment.

“He’ll be here somewhere,” Caduceus said mildly, apparently having materialised from the mist somewhere behind him. As always, it was the perfect mix of comforting and unnerving. “I’m sure you’ll get to talk to him later tonight.”

His shoulders hunched defensively, and he fought the urge to hide his face behind his collar. “Uh – _ja, ja,_ we will. Talk to him. It will be, ah, good to see him.”

“It will, I think you two have a lot to talk about,” Caduceus continued, then his ears perked up. “Oh, Nott and Jester have found some people to talk to, that’s nice.”

He wandered over in their direction, leaving Caleb to run a hand over his face and pinch the bridge of his nose. Either Caduceus was being his usual, keenly perceptive self, or Caleb was enamoured with Essek to an embarrassingly obvious degree. Either or, it left him with ears gone red and an itch for something to distract himself with until the Queen’s opening speech.

Taking two champagne flutes from a passing waitperson, he approached Beau and Fjord, who were idly watching Jester and Nott talk animatedly to a sharply-dressed, orange-skinned tiefling. If her bemused-yet-charmed smile was anything to go by, it seemed to be progressing well.

“Do we know who that is?” he asked quietly, handing Fjord a flute as Beau had somehow already acquired her own between the foyer and the centre of the room.

“Part of Den Tanyll, apparently,” Beau responded. “Renowned alchemist working for the BQ, I think she said. Nott should be happy about – oh, fuck, it’s Foreman Bodo!”

Attempting not to draw too much to themselves – and probably failing – Fjord and Caleb snapped their attention to follow Beau’s gaze. Sure enough, there was that beady-eyed motherfucker, notably without a wife _or_ a mistress by his side. For a moment, he caught them staring; then immediately diverted his attention elsewhere and took a sharp turn away.

“Ha, sucker,” Fjord cackled. “I’m surprised they even invited him here.”

Caleb opened his mouth to respond, until a hush suddenly fell over the gathered crowd, quiet but for the clink of glasses and the whispering of expensive cloth. On the edge of the dais stood the Bright Queen, magnificent and illustrious; her long, slim gown glittered with all the light of the Luxon, head held high with the presence only a millennium of life could muster. And Caleb didn’t notice; didn’t hear a word that came out of her word, as a matter of fact, too preoccupied with the figure standing about three metres behind and to her left.

Essek was beautiful, Caleb already knew that – he didn’t spend some nights hot and tense from just the thought of him for nothing, after all. But right then, washed in fragments of white light from the chandelier and standing straight-backed in formal wear that made the other attendees look like savages, he was otherworldly. He looked carved from marble, the sort of masterpiece one would see in a museum or temple and wonder after the glory of the sculptor’s muse. 

_Good gods, I need to tell him the truth, or it’s going to eat me from the inside out._

Part of him was vaguely aware that the Queen was still speaking, and the crowd had laughed politely at something she’d said, but he couldn’t bring himself to pay attention to anything but the upwards curve of Essek’s lips. No, no – his attention was _purely_ focused on the very slim fit of his pants and waistcoat.

“Hey, numbnuts, you’re supposed to clap,” Beau murmured, elbowing him in the ribs and knocking him out of his reverie. Belatedly, he realised the people surrounding them had started to applaud, and the Bright Queen had left the dais, helped by a tall half-orc woman. The crowds once again spurred into movement, the chatter and peals of laughter picking up as nobles and authorities clumped together to catch up and spread potentially useful gossip. A space in the centre of the hall cleared, revealing polished marble floors.

“Looked like you were really into that speech,” Nott commented mildly, sidling up next to him. In her sleeveless gown of sunflower yellow, embroidered with swirling patterns on the bodice and trailing slightly along the floor, he could hardly equate her with the timid woman he had met in jail.

“Wha– oh, _ja_, it was um. Very interesting,” he stuttered, and she rolled her eyes fondly.

“I’m fucking with you, Cay,” she said. The Bright Queen strode onto the main floor, the half-orc woman still on her arm, while from somewhere a regal melody started on the cello. “I know you weren’t listening to a thing she said. I can’t blame you, though – he does look very nice tonight.”

Caleb sighed through his nose. “Am I so obvious that everyone who, who looks at me can tell? Surely there are other people in this room that think he’s attractive, I highly doubt I’m the sore thumb.”

“True, but not all of them get a dopey little smile whenever they see him,” she teased, neatly plucking a wine glass off a passing server’s tray. “We can tell because we know you, Caleb; you’re not embarrassing yourself publicly.”

“Well, that’s something at least–”

“But _I_ will be humiliating you in public if you keep dancing around the subject with him. Even I have my limits, you know.”

He smiled ruefully, busying himself with his champagne. “Duly noted. Maybe I’ll let him know about all the nicknames you have for him at the same time, hm?”

She snorted. “He should be honoured to be called a hot boi, so you do that. I’m going to go steal some cufflinks, you want to come?”

“I’ll pass on that,” he said, watching the Queen take the hand of her companion and lead her into a graceful dance Caleb was unfamiliar with. “I believe we’re going to get roped into dancing, soon, and I want to watch Fjord flirt his way into better social standing first.”

“Ah, always entertaining, that is,” she said, already eyeing the glittering jewellery of a passing drow man. “Go try and have fun, alright?.”

With that, she disappeared into the crowd, stealthy even while wearing a ball gown. On the floor the dancing continued, and other guests began to filter into the space around the Queen and her partner. Slipping between others as gracefully as he could, he approached Fjord’s side, where he was busy charming a few giggling nobles.

“Ready to, ah, make some new friends?” He asked quietly as the group left, a few lingering (read: steamy) looks sent over their shoulders.

“I don’t know if you mean make political connections or be very obviously propositioned, but I think that’s happened already,” Fjord murmured in response. “I could always use some back up, though.”

Caleb snorted. “I’ll see if I can stop a few of the more handsy ones.”

Names, faces, the wandering eyes of guests who had probably had too much to drink – he committed it all to memory, sorting them into categories like ‘political influence’ or ‘relatively friendly’ or ‘hornier than is likely socially acceptable.’ If there was one thing both Caleb and Fjord were good at, it was pretending that they had their lives together for appearances. For a while, Jester and Nott had disappeared, likely up to something at least mildly illegal – until he caught a glimpse of them twirling together in dance, both looking lighter and happier than they had in weeks. From his vantage point on raised landing on the side of the room, the dancers seemed like the swirling currents of a stream, moving both separately in their own dances and together as one. A figure in cerulean broke off from the crowd, Beau making her way to Caleb.

“Gotten anything useful?” she asked as she approached, leaning an arm against the banister with a champagne flute in the other hand.

“Other than multiple people offering a variety of favours to Fjord and a great amount of gossip about Den Olios, not too much,” he responded easily, eyes still on the dancers – perhaps looking for one in particular. He observed Essek keenly, watching the way he led his current partner with the ease of someone who had danced all his life. A few surprised glances had been sent his way from members of the Queen’s court; it seemed Essek being willing to actually have fun was a rare occurrence indeed. 

“Apparently, Zethris’ nephew has been having an affair with a married individual from Bazzoxan. Received some very, ah, graphic details.”

“Huh, who knew,” she said, taking a draught from her glass. “Could be useful.”

“Or it could just be juicy.” Beau snorted. Even if a ball wasn’t exactly her speed, he was glad to see she was in a good mood. “Do we know who that woman the BQ was dancing with is?”

“Yeah, actually. Arwyn Bendras, general of the Kryn forces; she’s part of the inner circle, has been for years. Brilliant strategist, apparently,” she explained, leaning away from the rail and motioning for Caleb to walk with her.

“Ah, good to know. I’ll see if Fjord can chat her up, endear us to her.”

“That’s what I was thinking, too,” she paused, and then far too casually added, “So, have you seen Essek?”

He tensed, and shot her a sideways glance. “_Ja_, I have seen him,” he said carefully. “We all saw him when the Queen was making her speech. And he’s been around all night.”

“No shit, buddy,” she said, rolling her eyes and walking them to where Jester and Nott had stopped their dancing, instead giggling together over something. “I _mean_ whether you’ve talked to him yet. If you don’t stop staring at him with that dumb look on your face soon, I might throw up.”

Involuntarily, his eyes found Essek in the crowd again, and he itched to go and talk to him, see the way he was smiling up close; but the anxiety that pricked at the back of his mind stilled him. _Perhaps it’s not the right time – perhaps I’ll draw unwanted attention to him – perhaps he’d just like to enjoy the night for once, without having to deal with me as –_

“Yeah, that dumb look,” Beau interjected, cutting off his downward spiral with a pointed look. “It’s giving _me_ a headache, so I don’t even want to know the sort of migraine you’re nursing.”

He sighed, stopping them where they stood and turning to her. “If this is why you brought me down here in the first place–”

“No, asshole, I didn’t bring you down here embarrass you in front of your magical boyfriend; I’m an experienced wingwoman, I know it has to happen at least somewhat naturally,” she interrupted, and the anxiety that had flared in his chest ceased slightly. Catching sight of them, Nott and Jester closed in on them, arm in arm. “I actually brought you down here because Jester wants to dance with all of us at least once, and I intend on avoiding dancing in front of these people for as long as possible. So, I’m trying to get you to be my sacrificial lamb. Sorry.”

“You guys!” Jester smiled as she approached, eyes twinkling. “I’ve hardly seen you all night, we need to dance!” Neither Caleb nor Nott missed the way she was really only looking at Beau as she said that. Making eye contact, Nott winked at him.

Taking Caleb by the shoulders and pushing him forward, Beau began, “Oh, you know, Caleb was just saying that he really wants–”

“–to talk to me for a moment! Jessie, why don’t you dance with Beau for a bit?” Nott finished brightly, her grin a perfect mixture of delighted and devious as colour rose to Beau’s cheeks.

“I’m so excited!” Jester grinned, likely very aware of what Nott was doing and very willing to take advantage of it anyway. “You’ll be a great dancer, Beau. Probably better than Caleb would be, anyway.”

“Oh, _ja_, certainly. You know that I’m completely uncoordinated.” Caleb agreed keenly, forcing himself not to laugh at Beau’s flabbergasted-yet-flattered expression. Without another word, she let herself be gently dragged towards the other pairs of dancers, shooting a look at them over her shoulder that was equal parts mortified, furious and delighted.

“And that’s how I work wonders,” Nott proclaimed, setting her hands on her hips.

“Is that a new con we should name?” Caleb asked, grinning at the pair of them as Jester beamed at an uncharacteristically bashful Beau. “What do you think of ‘Monk Matchmaking?’ Or maybe ‘Courting of the Cleric?’”

She cackled. “Oh, that’s a good one. Pretty effective, if I might say so myself. Time to deploy it a second time, I think,” she said and reached for his hand, which he unthinkingly gave. Then he paused.

“Wait, what do you mean ‘deploy it a second–” he began, but was cut off when she spun him around with a tug on his wrist, leaving him almost nose to nose with - Essek.

“Essek! We’ve been looking for you,” Nott gushed, a hand still on Caleb’s wrist.

“Nott, Caleb,” he greeted smoothly, flashing a smile at them both. It was a politely charming smile, one Caleb had seen a thousand times and knew was part of the persona he presented to the world, but it still made his heart jump into his throat. “Are you enjoying yourselves?”

“_Ja_, we are. The others are too, if you have not seen them already; they’ll be off dancing somewhere around here.” It was just polite chit chat, the sort they didn’t bother with normally. But there was an unspoken understanding that appearances had to be maintained, as deceiving as they often were.

“You know, I didn’t know you were such a good dancer,” Nott said, glancing between the two of them. “It’s quite impressive, don’t you think, Caleb?”

It took every ounce of self-control he had not to burst out laughing. From the sudden gleam in Essek’s eyes and the slight twitch of his lips, he was in a similar predicament.

“Uh, _ja_, quite impressive,” he finally managed to choke out. “A natural ability, or did you learn somewhere?”

With what was likely a great deal of effort and control, Essek just smiled innocently. “No teacher, just something I’ve always been able to do.”

“I _see_.”

Somewhat aware that something was off, Nott clapped her hands together and glanced between the two of them. “Well, looks like the perfect opportunity to see just how good he is, Caleb. I’m off to find Caduceus – have fun!”

Hurriedly, she excused herself, disappearing into the crowd without so much as a backward glance. Left facing Essek amongst the other guests, all oblivious to the entire exchange, Caleb finally allowed himself a small smile. A second later, and a stunning grin spread across Essek’s features, right up to his eyes. _He smiles with his eyes_, Caleb realised. _That’s the difference between the fake smiles and the real ones. I wonder how many other people get to see him when he’s being genuine. _A deeply, deeply selfish part of him hoped he was part of a selective few that got to peek behind the mask.

“If I were worried you’d told them, I certainly wouldn’t be now,” he chuckled quietly, mindful to keep his voice down. “I think that’s been the highlight of my night so far.”

“Mine as well,” Caleb agreed, unable to wipe the smile from his face. Gods, Beau was probably right when she said he looked like a dumbass when he was with Essek. “Now that you’re here, perhaps you’d better, ah, you’d better show me exactly how good of a dancer you are; I’d imagine I have a few things to learn from an expert such as yourself.”

He cocked a slender eyebrow. “I suppose I can take the time,” he said, and offered a ringed hand for Caleb to take. Essek led them to the floor, seamlessly slipping in amongst the other dancers. Even if they attracted attention because the Shadowhand of the Dynasty was dancing with a human, he couldn’t bring himself to care. The time spent practicing had been worth it – they slotted together like pieces of a jigsaw, moving in tandem to the beat of the music. For once, Caleb just let himself enjoy it a moment, taking the time to admire Essek’s black and silver three-piece and the glitter of jewellery on his face and pointed ears. He looked even better up close, the detailing on his coat and suit vest thrown into greater detail. _He feels better up close, too._

“How has – how are you? Is everything well, on your end?” he asked, distracting himself from his own train of thought. They were in public and pressed chest-to-chest; it wouldn’t do to embarrass himself.

He could tell Essek was looking at him, too, eyes raking up and down the dark grey military tailcoat he wore. He’d chosen it because it wouldn’t be attention grabbing, the most frivolous part being the gold plating on the two rows of buttons on the front and the lining of the cuffs and collar. He felt good, though – and felt better knowing Essek approved.

“Mostly, mostly. I’ll admit, I’ve received a few curious looks about actually participating this year, but I believe they approve of the sudden change. I – I am very grateful that you gifted me your time, Caleb. Thank you.”

For a moment, he couldn’t think of a single thing to say in response, and busied himself with pretending to focus on the dance. How could he respond to that? How on earth could he explain that teaching this incredible man to dance, of all things, was anything but a chore? It was an indulgence, the quasi-fulfilment of a selfish desire to have intimacy, and trust, and a playful give-and-take with the man that continually enticed and eluded him. But the fantasy was bittersweet, and wrapped in uncertainty.

“I think we need to continue a particular conversation,” he murmured suddenly, and finally looked up at him. His lips parted slightly, and his air of liveliness and humour morphed into something Caleb couldn’t quite parse. “Elsewhere, would be best. Please.”

Essek frowned, then nodded, leading them to the edge of the ball floor and out of the rhythm of the music. In a slightly awkward quiet, they passed through an adjoining corridor, the number of ball attendees rapidly thinning out as they walked. Another turn, and the night air greeted them on a balcony looking over the entirety of the Lucid Bastion.

Essek had immediately approached the stone handrail, resting his elbows on it and taking in the view. The sea of dancing lights was stunningly beautiful, and normally Caleb would’ve taken a moment to admire it too; but other matters pressed. He took a place next to Essek, leaning against the rail to face him. A moment passed in silence.

“So, I suppose we’ve made a bit of a mess of this whole situation, hm?”

Caleb laughed mirthlessly. “If you classify ‘fucking up one’s business relationship with someone you have been conditioned to hate for much of your life’ as a mess, then yes, I suppose we have.”

It frightened him a little bit, the way he would revert to his smooth-talking self when threatened. Oh, well – when he soon fucked this whole thing over by spilling the feelings that had been stewing in his chest for months, he’d have to get used to pretending to be okay while Essek was around.

“If nothing else, and if everything goes sour and you can no longer stand to look at me, I must know one thing – what am I, to you? Who am I in your life, Caleb Widogast?”

The world narrowed to just the two of them.

“You are remarkable,” he stated simply, no longer willing to push away the inevitable. Let the words be exposed to the cool night air and let them go; let the inescapable rejection and disgust come, because it was preferable to an eternity of uncertainty. “You are gifted, supernaturally intelligent, and the best player of political chess I think I’ve ever seen.” Nothing could force him to make eye contact in that moment, and he stared blankly ahead.

“But I think anybody who looks at you knows that. These things, they are all part of the face you present to the world. Who gets to see the patient tutor, sitting in the study of the rowdiest bunch of dumbasses in the Dynasty because he chooses to be there? And who gets to see that beneath the cool, flirtatious, arrogant exterior, is a man so open to kindness and vulnerability it scares the shit out of me?”

He paused, for a moment. Soon, soon Essek would cut him off, demand they never speak willingly again, endanger the Nein’s prospects of truly allying themselves with the Dynasty. But he had to say this, or it would kill him slowly.

“I like you, Essek. Whether you’re ‘useful’ to me or not, or if we’re manipulating each other for our own gains, I just like you. And I am glad you are in my life.”

No response, at least not audially – he still couldn’t bring himself to look just a few degrees to his right. He would take his judgement, take whatever reprimand Essek was formulating. But he couldn’t look him in the eye while he did it, or it would be too much.

“Caleb. Please, look at me. I need to see you.” Movement, from the corner of his eye as Essek straightened and momentarily pressed a hand to his back.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “Please, don’t.”

“_Caleb._”

“What?” he spat, finally snapping his head and gaze to look at – _oh_. Just inches away, Essek stood, with the gentlest curve to his mouth and the most earnest crinkle to his eyes Caleb had ever seen. Silver lined the edges of his eyes, and hope relit itself in Caleb’s chest.

Incrementally, inch by inch, Essek raised his hands to Caleb’s face, cupping his jaw and neck with his thumbs trailing through the short beard. He leaned into the touch, desperate for it, relying on it.

“Is that really how you feel?” A single nod. “I… am very glad to hear that. And for what it’s worth, I am glad you’re in my life, too.” The small flame of hope burned a little bit brighter, and Caleb brought one hand up to cup Essek’s where it was still on his jaw. Silent understanding hung between them; the hopeful fire in his chest jumped into a raging inferno, warm but never hurting. For a moment, they stood in silence, until Essek spoke again.

“We are the biggest fucking fools I think I’ve ever met.”

The tension broke – he smiled, and a wet chuckle jumped from Caleb’s throat. He set his hands on Essek’s chest, head bowed in quiet laughter and his knees weak. Had anybody else walked in on that moment, they’d have thought they were crazy, laughing together while half in tears – but he couldn’t make himself care if he tried.

“Intelligent fools, but fools nonetheless,” he agreed, curling his hands in Essek’s jacket and then smoothing it out again. It was comforting, not just the repetitive motion but the assurance that _yes, it’s okay to touch him now, this is something he wants too_. “That, ah, that was a far better response than I was expecting, to be honest. Or even hoping for.”

Essek smirked, endearingly smug bastard that he was. “Oh, really? And what, exactly, were you hoping for?”

“Do you want me to tell you, or do you want me to show you?” The smirk only grew, and Caleb had the most straightforward method of getting it to go away in mind, actually–

Until that smirk suddenly disappeared, and so did the joy in his eyes, slowly replaced by rising horror as he stared above his head into the middle distance. His hold on his jaw slackened, then slipped away entirely. Caleb froze.

“Essek? What is it?”

A beat, and then he came back to himself, shaking his head and refocusing on Caleb’s features. His mouth set into a hard line, eyes frantic and wide.

“There’s an assassin in the palace.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the cliffhanger, couldn’t resist. The ideas for what they wore to the ball have been bouncing around in my head for WEEKS. Also ‘Courting of the Cleric’ is a baller beaujester fic title and im calling dibs on that concept. As always, I’m higgity-heck on tumblr!


	7. 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The ball comes to an explosive conclusion. As always, the plans that the Mighty Nein make don't go entirely smoothly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fuck chapter length consistency.

Way to kill the mood. As in, drag-the-mood-kicking-and-screaming-to-a-back-alley-and-dump-its-body-in-the-nearest-river, kill the mood. The mood had been utterly annihilated.

“What?” he breathed, fisting his hands in the fabric of Essek’s coat. “What do you – how did – _who_–”

“I got a message, from the captain of the Lucid Bastion guard,” he interrupted, stepping back with wide eyes. “Somebody’s been attacked in the west wing of the palace, in the garden, they’re barely alive. I’m sorry, Caleb, but I need to go see what’s wrong. Gods, the one time I’m not running around behind the scenes–”

He backed away towards the doors to the balcony, the giddy joy from just minutes before wiped away by sudden stress and guilt. It tugged at something behind Caleb’s chest, the part that was somehow still kind, and somehow growing bigger.

He followed Essek and took him firmly but gently by the shoulder, anchoring him to the spot and looking him dead in the eyes. “Let me come with you. We can help, if you need it.”

“No, I can’t ask you to–” he began automatically, brows meeting in a frown; but there must have been something in Caleb’s expression, some degree of conviction or devotion or loyalty that made him cut himself off. “Are you sure?”

“Certain.”

A soft hand slipped around his wrist, the rings on Essek’s fingers little pinpricks of cold against his skin. “Then come.”

Together they slipped back into the halls of the palace, bypassing the turn back to the ballroom in favour of what he assumed was a more discreet way. The walls around them warped and blurred, Essek bending time to spur them onward towards the western wing. With barely enough time, Caleb fished the copper wire out of his coat, sending the same message repeatedly to the others: “_We have trouble; a killer is on the loose. Come to the western side of the palace immediately, to the gardens.”_

Over his shoulder, Essek asked, “Are they coming?”

“As quickly as they can. Do we know what we’re going to be dealing with?”

“Not yet,” Essek replied. “We’ll have to question the victim, if they’re still alive.”

Caleb frowned. “Even if they aren’t, we can probably deal with that. We’ll need Caduceus, though.”

Moments later, time slowed back down to normal, Essek’s grip on his wrist loosening but not slipping away. An unfamiliar, dimly lit hall loomed around them and the sounds of music and chatter from the ball faded to a distant murmur. Metres away, two doors to the outside had been flung open, allowing the muttering of distressed voices to echo through along with a cool autumn breeze.

“This way. Your friends should take only a few minutes to arrive, I’ve organised for someone to direct them,” Essek explained hurriedly, already striding through the open archway.

The gardens were strange and beautiful, foreign plants and trees winding in intricate patterns in a large courtyard dotted with lanterns. Most of them were dark with obsidian leaves glinting in the low light, but a few glowed faintly, attracting the odd lazily buzzing insect. There, to the side and huddled next to a trunk of dark, twisting wood, stood two people, obscuring whatever they were gathered around. Soldiers, they looked like, if the glint of chitinous armour was anything to go by. Essek beelined towards them, and Caleb followed in silent trepidation. His fingers curled around the twine in his pocket.

“Shadowhand!” one of them exclaimed, and the soldiers immediately parted like grass to let them through. Blood, everywhere; it stained the grass and flowers at their feet, turning into spilled ink in the low light. A figure lay on the blood-soaked earth, weakly clutching a hand to the ribboned cloth and flesh at his chest, while a drow soldier pressed a wad of white material against the flow of blood that welled up around her fingers. Essek’s eyes widened, in shock and apparent recognition.

“Captain, tell me what happened,” Essek demanded, swiftly moving to crouch beside her. Caleb kept more distance, though he was barely spared a frantic glance as they moved to guard the entrance. Anxiously, he turned to watch the door for his friends.

“We found him just a few minutes ago,” she replied immediately, not letting up her pressure on the wound. “Collapsed on the ground and halfway to bleeding out. He says he came out for some air, until someone attacked him and disappeared again.”

“Orange. Wearing bright orange; it was all I could see when they left,” the drow man on the ground wheezed, then collapsed into a coughing fit.

“Quiet, Zumric, you must save your breath!” the captain ordered, applying more pressure to the wound. Able to look closer, Caleb realised the material she was using was from a cape, still attached to her shoulders. “He’s not bleeding out anymore, but we need a medic immediately.”

“Caleb, we’re here!”

From behind them came footsteps on marble, then the whistle of a blade being drawn. Caleb whirled to see his friends at the doorway, blocked by the two guards with their swords drawn.

“If you want that man to live, I need to get in there now,” Caduceus stated, fixing them with a stare so serious and omniscient they withered slightly before him.

“Luxon’s sake, let them in,” Essek called irritably, still kneeling beside the captain; she shot him a distractedly quizzical look as they rushed in. “I know them, and he’s a cleric.”

Promptly, Caduceus folded his considerable height down to also crouch beside the drow man – Zumric, was his name. “Let’s get you back up, shall we?” With a wave of his hand and a gust of warm wind, the slashes in his chest began to knit themselves back together. He writhed in discomfort for a second, then relaxed with a sigh.

“Thank you,” he breathed, some clarity returning to his eyes. The captain’s shoulders slumped in relief.

“Get him to the healer’s quarters,” she called to the guards at the archway, who hurried back and gently helped him to his feet. “That was some good healing you just did there, but we’re gonna have another look at him.”

“Happy to help,” he rumbled, smiling pleasantly at the guards as they escorted Zumric away. “So, what’s been going on? Nott told me there was trouble.”

“He was attacked; we don’t know by who, or _how_ they even got in, but they’re still here,” Essek said, a heavy frown settling onto his mouth and brow. Beside him the Captain shifted uncomfortably on her feet, but he paid her no mind. “All we know is that they’re wearing orange, and everybody currently in attendance is in great danger.”

Jester nodded worriedly, twisting to glance after the guards as they left. “He looked really bad, you guys; if we’d gotten here any later he probably would have _died_. Why is somebody going around stabbing random people at a ball, anyways?”

Beau stood from where she’d been poking around the spot Zumric had been lying. “Well, I’m guessing he wasn’t just some rando, right? If you want a whole bunch of important people lined up like sitting ducks, a fancy event’s the way to go. He’s probably important, at least to some degree.”

The Captain frowned at them curiously, but nodded. “Even if you haven’t heard of him, you’re right; Zumric is one of the heirs to Den Olios. If they’re deliberately going after important figures, it makes me believe this is an assassin from the Empire; one of those Scourgers, perhaps?”

Caleb averted his gaze – he had nothing to do with it, he hated the Cerberus Assembly and the Scourgers, and still guilt rose like bile in his throat. He wrapped his fingers tighter around the twine in his pocket, focusing on the sting as it cut into his fingers.

“I don’t think whatever did that is from the Empire,” Caduceus refuted serenely. “Those wounds were made from claws or teeth, not a blade. We’re dealing with something else entirely.”

“The Abyss,” Caleb murmured, and from the looks he got from the others, they were thinking the same thing. “I wouldn’t be surprised if Obann had connections even here.”

Beau nodded grimly and folded her arms over her chest. “_And_ I wouldn’t be surprised if they were planning on pinning it on the Empire; you know, stoke the fire a little bit.”

For a moment, a heavy silence settled. If Obann and Co. had enough of a network to cause destruction from the other side of Wildemount, then their lofty goals of releasing the Chained Oblivion could be closer to reality than they thought.

“Shouldn’t we be raising the alarm, then? Getting everybody out of harm’s way?” Fjord asked eventually, eyes trained on the slowly drying puddle of blood.

“If we send guards swarming all over the palace, whoever – or whatever – did this is going to bolt immediately, and we’re not going to know who they are,” Essek countered. “I want the guests out of danger, of course, but in the long run we need information. So, we need them here and alive, and for that we need them unaware.”

“So that rules out any of the guard,” the Captain finished bleakly. “And myself.”

“Well, _we_ could deal with it,” Jester suggested cheerfully. “People already know we’re at the ball, so it’s not going to be a big deal if we’re there. Then, when we find whoever it is, we can tell you and it’s all okay!”

Essek hesitated, his tongue held between his teeth. His eyes flickered between the group of them, then to the Captain, then finally coming to rest on Caleb. Trepidation flecked the intensity of his gaze.

“And you’re sure? That you can prevent this… whatever it is from escaping?” he asked, speaking to the group but still wholly focused on Caleb. _Don’t go and get yourself killed, _that look said. _Not when I only just got permission to truly have you._

“We came prepared,” Nott said, rifling through some of the layers of her dress and pulling out her hand crossbow. “And if everything goes well, I won’t even have to use this.”

Essek just blinked at her for a second, for once seemingly shocked into silence. The Captain’s eyebrows raised, though she seemed more impressed than surprised.

“We’re very paranoid,” Caduceus said, by way of explanation. “It seems to have paid off, though. For once.”

The Captain nodded seriously. “And as of now, you are likely the only armed people here who are less conspicuous than the entire guard marching in and raiding the place.”

“Still,” Essek interjected, turning to her. “Double the guard around the perimeter and at the exits, and inform all units in the area of the threat. Nobody leaves the palace without questioning.”

“Understood, Shadowhand,” the Captain complied immediately, and with a quick salute she was speeding through the doors and out of sight. _He’s very attractive when he’s in his element. Hypercompetent, _a very unhelpful and largely distracting part of Caleb’s mind offered.

“We should return to the ball, before it’s noticed that we’re gone,” he pointed out, distracting himself from his own internal monologue. “We need as much time as possible to try and find this person. Beast. Thing.”

“Come, then,” Essek instructed, already striding towards the open archway. “We will plan while we walk, and go from there.”

Again, time stretched and crunched around them, slowing only when the fear of some poor guest seeing a group of seven people speeding through the palace halls grew too great. Ahead of them, Essek slowed, and they walked slowly together in the direction of the music and laughter from the ball.

“Do you have a plan of attack?” he asked. He appeared calm and collected as ever, but something about his demeanour – maybe the set to his shoulders, or the way he clasped his hands a little too tight – gave away to Caleb the adrenaline and tension that thrummed beneath his skin. Briefly, Caleb allowed himself to wonder how often the unruffled front was genuine, before he pulled himself back to the task at hand.

“We don’t attack, right?” Fjord asked. “That’ll just tip them off, and then we’ve fucked ourselves. We need to pretend everything is normal.”

Beau nodded and grinned viciously. “Infiltrate that shit; we split up to cover more ground, corner anybody in orange, and go from there. Nott and I can take the outskirts in case they try to make a run for it.”

“Good. If all goes well, nobody at the ball will have any idea they could have died,” Essek said.

“What will you be doing, during all this?” Caleb asked, frowning. “You are in a position of great prestige; of all of us, you are in the most danger.”

Essek could’ve laughed in his face for even suggesting somebody could get the jump on him, but instead something in his eyes softened. “The best way to protect myself and my associates will be to stay in the spotlight; I will be personally ensuring everyone is aware and accounted for.”

For a beat, nobody said anything under the gravity of the situation. Best case scenario, nobody else was hurt and they get useful on Obann; worst case scenario, Rosohna’s sea of stars would run red with blood.

“We can’t even go one day without some weird shit going down,” Nott eventually muttered, though the corner of her lips quirked upwards slightly.

Essek huffed a grim laugh. “You wouldn’t be the Mighty Nein, otherwise.”

The seven of them shared loaded looks – _try not to die, good luck, don’t fuck up_ – and split into twos at once, all aiming for different entries so as not to enter conspicuously. For once in their lives, they would have to not draw attention to themselves.

Caleb and Essek lingered while the others continued on. Silence hung in the air between them, laden with thoughts left unspoken, lest they become overwhelming. He had so much more to say, so much that he needed to make sure Essek knew.

“Essek, you do–”

“Later,” Essek interrupted, with such warmth and gentleness something roiled and warmed in Caleb’s chest. “There will be a later, and we’ll do this properly. But we can’t now.”

“Of course,” he murmured, letting his gaze drop. Obviously, it would have to wait; people were in danger, and this was an opportunity to learn more about Obann that they couldn’t let pass. Still, he slipped a hand around Essek’s forearm, comforted this time by the knowledge that it was welcome there.

“Stay safe, Essek.”

He turned, and disappeared into the ballroom. They had an assassin to catch.

“Have you seen anything?”

Pretending to busy himself with a champagne glass, Caleb replied, “Nothing. I can’t find anyone wearing orange; not even a lot of people are wearing _red_.”

From the corner of his eye, Fjord frowned. “Are we sure that the Zumric guy saw orange? He’d just been clawed open, he easily could’ve been hallucinating.”

Caleb sighed heavily through his nose. “I know, but it’s all we have to go on. Even Jester and Caduceus can’t find any fiendish presence – I’m not even sure what we’re looking for anymore.”

They weren’t running out of time, not yet; only twenty-four minutes had passed, and the ball had hours to go yet. Still, every minute that passed with no news felt like another year off their collective lifespans.

“I’m going to talk around, see if that helps,” Fjord murmured, placing his empty glass on a passing tray. “Pretend I’m looking for a beautiful individual in orange I was dancing with before, etcetera. You find anything, let me know.”

“Gotcha,” he mumbled, and watched as Fjord smoothly glided into a circle of socialites like he’d been born and bred in the nobility. For a few minutes, he simply leaned against a pillar and observed the room, letting the other guests ignore him as they pleased. Every now and then, he would see Jester or Caduceus slipping through the crowd together, pleasant smiles affixed to their faces even as their keen eyes scanned the crowds. The sheer number of people in attendance had turned from impressive to irksome; it would be all too easy to disappear into the throngs of guests if one wished to remain out of sight.

All the while, Caleb kept an eye on Essek – not that he didn’t think he was capable, or he had to be protected, not at all – but he watched him remain firmly in the spotlight, speaking with large groups of undoubtedly important people or accepting any offer to dance that was sent his way.

“Some night, huh?”

Caleb jerked, somehow managing not to send champagne everywhere, and turned; then looked up. Behind him, somehow without making a single noise, was General Arwyn Bendras, towering above him above.

“General,” he greeted respectfully. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance. Some night, indeed.”

She chuckled at some joke Caleb apparently didn’t get, her voice grating but not aggressive-sounding. “Almost as charming as your friend I met before. Quite the smooth talker, he was. Not sure a silver tongue will get the job done tonight, though.”

He shot her a sidelong glance; she acknowledged it, but gave no further indication of what she was aiming for there. “_Nein_, it won’t; some things can’t be reasoned with.”

General Bendras hummed, then turned to face him more fully. “I hear from reliable sources that you’re a smart man, Widogast. You understand the situation we’re in.”

“_Ja_, I do,” he stated simply. “It is, ah, a bit of a pickle. You and other members of the court are the most capable people here to deal with this… _issue_, and it is for that exact reason you cannot. If you want information you must hold yourselves hostage, so you are outsourcing the job to us.”

She smiled into her wineglass, and though it was a pleasant smile, it had a dangerous edge that made him glad they were (sort of?) on the same side. “I knew there was a reason he liked you; I suppose that was it. We’ll be staying in the spotlight, keeping the attention of whatever it is that has the gall to strike at us on what should be a night of celebration. We’ll keep it interested. The rest is up to you.”

A final, analytical look, and she turned to slip back into the crowd, leaving Caleb equal parts encouraged and fucking terrified. He peered at her as she strode off; until another figure caught his eye entirely.

“Essek,” he breathed when he drew close, some odd mixture of anxiety and relief jumping into his throat. It was irrational, he knew; if Essek had suddenly disappeared or been murdered or something, the alarm would’ve been raised immediately. Still, it was something he found he couldn’t help.

“What’s wrong, has something–” he whispered urgently, but Essek held a hand up slightly.

“We must behave as if everything is normal,” he murmured into Caleb’s ear as he drew closer and into his personal space, making the hair on the back of his neck stand up. “Dance with me again; we can escape any overly curious ears.”

With a slight flourish, he turned and left Caleb to follow him towards those dancing. The current song was slower than the one they’d danced to before, and in a time signature Caleb was not familiar with; he doubted anyone would notice his inexperience, though, considering they were all either tipsy on expensive champagne or too involved in their dance partners to notice anyone else. Essek took the lead, slipping a hand around Caleb’s narrow waist and pulling him close.

“Any news? Have you seen anything?” he murmured, scanning the room with a watchful eye over Essek’s shoulder. When he replied, Caleb could feel the vibrations in his own chest.

“Clay has detected a fiendish presence somewhere in the room with us,” he said, and Caleb’s grip on his shoulder tightened. “He asked me to pass the message onto you.”

Caleb breathed a shaky sigh. “We can trap them in, under the right circumstances. Any chance there’s a field up to, ah, stop planar shifting in the palace?”

“None,” he muttered, and led them into a spin, following the lead of the other dancers. “The Empire uses only teleportation for transportation; planar travel was not something we were focused on. You expect the fiend to be able to jump between planes?”

“If they’re anything like Obann, we have to assume so,” Caleb said. If they could ensure this fight would not stray from the material plane, they could smoke the bastard out; but if they were just a spell away from disappearing forever, it was useless.

“We’re running out of time,” Caleb continued through clenched teeth, eyes still darting around the room, and Essek nodded grimly. “Is it not possible to spread the word, get a larger group of people looking?”

“I cannot; I have already told everyone I trust with this information. If we tell the wrong people, word will spread, and we will be inciting mass panic. And given this is a room full mostly of aristocrats, they will be more hysterical than your average individual.”

Caleb cursed colourfully under his breath. He was right, as usual. If they had even a little bit more information – a piece of ripped fabric, a name, a visage, _anything_ – they could’ve dealt with it already. A moment passed in which they didn’t say anything and just pretended to be like any other of the carefree guests around them; until Essek suddenly stiffened against him, almost stumbling in their effortless dance.

“What? What is it?” he asked hurriedly, but Essek’s eyes were locked on a point over his shoulder.

“Spin, quickly, now,” he ordered, guiding them in a different direction and twirling rapidly together until he oriented himself at a particular angle. Focus etched itself into his features.

“You see them,” Caleb said, not a question but a tense statement; ever so subtly, Essek nodded. “Give me a description.”

“Tiefling. Black dress,” he said, lips barely moving, and Caleb frowned. “But orange skin. Zumric must’ve thought she was wearing orange instead. She’s standing by the western entrance.”

Something pinged in the back of Caleb’s mind. “The alchemist from Den Tanyll?”

“The very one; Isivir Tanyll, widely respected. You have met her?”

“Not me, but Nott and Jester were talking to her before,” Caleb corrected, following Essek’s adjustments to his positioning wordlessly; they couldn’t lose sight of her now. “Where do we go from here?”

“We want her away from the guests; whatever happens then, at least nobody is getting hurt. It will be easier to stop her from getting away then, as well.”

Caleb bit his lower lip. “If we get Fjord talking to her and make us seem like attractive targets, then we can lure her away from the crowds. If she’s not interested, we’ll have maybe three minutes in which to act.”

Breathing a curse, Essek nodded. “That will have to do. Can you contact him and the others from here?”

Wordlessly, Caleb slipped out his thin piece of copper from where he’d tucked it into his jacket sleeve and twisted it in one hand. “Cover me.”

Essek leaned closer, pressing himself up against Caleb and letting him duck his head against his shoulder. To any casual observer, they would’ve looked like a very comfortably intimate pair enjoying each other’s company immensely; what the casual observer couldn’t see, however, was Caleb hurriedly whispering into the wire cupped in his palm. Given many of the ‘casual observers’ around them were nobles with nothing better to do, multitudes of gossip about them would probably be popping up within the hour. Still, better than everyone being killed by a demon within the same timeframe.

_“Fjord, we think we’ve found them. Orange tiefling woman, Isivir Tanyll, by the western entrance.”_

A suspenseful thirty seconds passed until he got a reply. _“I see her. If I can get closer, I’ll know if it’s her or not. Message me again in a minute.”_

He let a tense breath out through his teeth, and at Essek’s raised eyebrows, he said, “He needs a minute, we will simply have to wait.”

“He’d better make it a short minute.”

They continued their charade of a dance, making Caleb miss the easy, relaxed way they had been doing it before. In truth, he had been hoping the night could’ve been a welcome break from the political and social tension that had mounted in the previous few months. No rest for the wicked, apparently. When he couldn’t bear the waiting any longer, he messaged Fjord again.

_“Fjord, is it her?”_

This time, the response was immediate. _“Yeah, fuck, it’s definitely her; I can smell the demony-ness now that I’m close. What’s our game plan?”_

He looked to Essek, who apparently filled in the dots of the conversation himself. “Tell the others what’s going on; I will have to be able to bind her to this plane before we can confidently engage, but if I do that in front of anybody, they’ll panic. If Fjord can lead her away from the guests, perfect; if everything goes to shit, just – stop people from dying.”

Caleb relayed the message as discretely as possible – “_Talk to her now, and make yourself seem like the most important bastard in the room,”_ – and slipped the wire back up his sleeve. “What will you be doing?”

“I will be informing my superiors of the current situation and retrieving my spell components. If anything happens, tell me,” he said, smoothly guiding them off the floor and into the throngs of milling guests.

“You _don’t have your spell components?”_

“Most people don’t bring their weapons to a ball, Caleb,” he countered, shooting him a sidelong glance which quickly softened. “But I can’t say I’m not grateful you did. Good luck, my dear – let us hope you don’t need it.”

A small, parting smile, and he disappeared into the crowd.

Keeping a watchful eye on Fjord the whole while, Caleb messaged the others – “_We’ve found the assassin, Fjord’s with her, come to the ballroom,”_ – drifting amongst the other guests in an attempt to lose any attention he drew. A few times, he saw them slipping through the crowds or leaning against doorways, all focused on the unassuming tiefling and half-orc conversing in the corner. Though Caleb was nowhere near close enough to hear them, she seemed interested in whatever he was saying; interested enough that something dangerous and predatory glittered in the smiles Isivir flashed at him. Disturbing, absolutely, but also exactly what they needed.

On the dais, where the Queen’s inner circle had gathered, Essek milled between the members with the grace and nonchalance of someone just casually enjoying the ball, rather than informing his colleagues about a massive threat to the safety and security of everyone present. Finishing a conversation, he made eye contact with Caleb. He twisted the copper in his hand.

_“Now?”_

_“Now.”_

Over the tiefling’s shoulder, he nodded at Fjord. Minutes later, the rest of the Mighty Nein still keeping careful watch, he made his move; he put on the most charming smile he had in his arsenal, running a hand down her arm and lingering at the wrist. For all the world, he looked like some smooth-talking noble eager to woo the first pretty woman to talk to him. With an alluring look from beneath long eyelashes and something murmured in Fjord’s ear, she turned and made for the exit, leaving him to follow suit.

As one, the others clustered together at the side of the room.

“Holy shit, the alchemist woman is the assassin?” Nott asked immediately, eyes trained on the doorway. As much as they all itched to follow hot on Fjord’s heels, springing into a fight just metres away from the ballroom would achieve nothing.

“I know, right? She seemed so nice,” Jester whispered. “How long do we have to wait before we can follow?”

“At least until nobody at the ball will notice we’re beating the shit out of someone,” Beau said lowly. “If we think of how long it took us to the get to the gardens before, we wait about forty more seconds until we _slowly _start to follow. Surely, she’s gotta be smart enough to try and kill him _away_ from the guests.”

“I can’t tell where she is anymore. She’s out of range for my spell, if that helps,” Caduceus offered. “I don’t want Fjord being clawed open like that other fellow was. That was awful.”

“We have to wait for Essek, too. Cornering her without keeping her to this plane won’t achieve anything,” Caleb pointed out, anxiously glancing between the dais and the doorway.

Jester twisted her hands together, frowning. “Are we sure this isn’t too long? I feel like it’s been too long. What if Fjord’s getting murdered, like, right now? Or what if she just–”

A blood curdling shriek, and the ball went deadly silent. Thousands of heads turned as one towards the halls beyond the doorway Fjord had just passed through. Unthinkingly, the Nein spread out into a haphazard line, creating a makeshift barrier between the other guests and whatever the _fuck_ had just happened in there.

Complete, impenetrable silence, until the rapid click-clack of shoe heels on marble echoed through the ballroom, and a wide-eyed drow man came barrelling through the doorway. He planted a hand against the frame, chest heaving.

“Demon. There’s a demon in the palace.”

That statement, unfortunately, seemed a little bit redundant; the monstrous figure in the shadows behind him seemed to speak for itself. A large, gnarled hand darted out to grab at him, wrapping clawed fingers around his middle and squeezing. The hulking form prowled further into the light, slowly revealing warped and blistering red skin stretched over unnaturally placed muscle. Isivir – and it was her, though she was barely recognisable apart from the face – loomed over the helpless man in her grip, perverted demonic form ducking under the already huge archway. Bile rose in Caleb’s throat.

Isivir _grinned_, rows of jagged teeth glinting in the lantern light. And she lunged.

Everything broke into chaos – luckily for the Might Nein, they had their own brand of chaos that not even a demon would be likely to keep up with. Nott rifled through her dress, searching for the pocket she’d sewn in to hold her crossbow, while Jester summoned her lollipop to her hands. Caduceus backed away, placing his long arms up to push the crowd back into safety; unsurprisingly, they didn’t need to be told twice, most of them already shoving each other out of the way in a mad dash for the exit. Beau was already gone, flying towards the demon and leaving her jacket in a pile on the floor. With a leap, she grabbed onto the demon’s hulking arm, wrestling with a few of the thick, gnarled fingers wrapped around the drow. A crossbow bolt lodged itself in one of the knuckles, and Isivir shrieked in furious pain.

“Where is Essek?” Jester yelled over the noise, taking a swing with her lollipop. Some absent part of Caleb’s mind laughed at the image of her, in a ballgown, beating a demon with a piece of serrated confectionary. “We need him to keep the demon here!”

Caleb looked wildly around for him, but there was no sign. “We just have to stall!”

Shoving his hands in his jacket, he rifled through his pockets until he found the small package of phosphorous he’d tucked in there earlier. Waiting a moment until Caduceus had gently shoved most of the ball guests away, he struck his hands together, letting a leaping wall of flame cage Isivir into the eastern entrance. She reared away, snarling.

From behind her came a sudden flash of light, and Fjord sprinted out from within the hallway, dragging his sword along the demon’s side. The front of his suit had been sliced open, not as badly as Zumric’s had been, but enough that small dots of blood trickled out to stain his shirt. Isivir writhed and swiped at him, giving Beau the opportunity to rip the poor drow fellow from her grip. Fjord grabbed him and dragged him out of the way to where Caduceus was waiting with a spell. Behind Isivir, the air crackled and warped, and a tear in the plane opened. Beyond it, the Abyss beckoned her – but Caleb threw his hands forward, shouting the verbal component to _counterspell, _and the tear closed itself again.

The air to Caleb’s right warped and blurred, and Essek stepped out from the folded fabric of space, glaring at the demon. He clutched something in his right hand.

“You took your time,” Caleb called to him, fishing around in his pockets for another component while still maintaining his concentration on the wall of fire. “What happened?”

“Sue me,” Essek shot back, tracing a few sigils in the air in front of him. He raised his fist, revealing a glittering red gemstone. “I needed to find a gemstone worth enough for the spell; this came from some noblewoman’s necklace that I ripped off, so I’ll be paying for that later.”

To Caleb’s left, Nott yelled and loosed another shot directly into the demon’s kneecap, which Jester then followed up with a hearty _thwack_. Isivir roared again – reaching behind her, she hooked her claws into the air and tugged, again ripping open a gaping red rift in space. She desperately pulled herself halfway into it; until Essek traced a few more lines through the air, and the gem he clutched burst into a brilliant light. She froze in place.

“Stop,” Essek commanded, slowly striding closer. With what seemed like great internal resistance, she obliged. “Good. You are under _my_ command, now.” Collectively, everyone breathed a sigh of relief.

“Holy shit, is it over? Are we done?” Nott asked, her crossbow still trained directly between Isivir’s eyes. Caleb, however, let the fire roaring behind them dull and extinguish itself. “Fjord, what happened to _you?”_

Fjord looked up from where he was examining what remained of his shirt and patching up the skin beneath it, and groaned. “Next time, somebody else is playing the bait. I’m resigning from the position of ‘pretty boy decoy.’”

Beau grimaced. “Okay, at this point that’s probably fair. So, what the _fuck_ happened in there?”

“I’m interested to hear that story, too,” a brassy voice behind them declared. Flanking the Bright Queen, General Bendras grinned sharply at them, and at the demon Essek was currently having a stare down with. “I mean, that could’ve gone better, but it definitely could’ve gone worse.”

At her side, the Bright Queen’s lips quirked up the smallest amount. “Perhaps we could’ve _avoided_ gate-crashing the Ball; regardless, you have circumvented the deaths of many tonight. Once again, you have proven yourselves as esteemed allies of the Dynasty. Personally, I thank you.”

An awkward moment passed while they traded looks with each other to suss out who had to respond, like unwilling students being asked a question by a teacher.

“We’re just doing what has to be done,” Caduceus eventually said, from where he was coaxing that drow man into standing. The good part was that he seemed physically fine, thanks to some quick healing; the bad part was that he was probably traumatised, if the vacant shock behind his eyes was anything to go by.

“We’re going to need eyewitness accounts from all of you,” Bendras said, her voice taking on a more businesslike tone. “And we’re going to need answers to a few questions before we can let you go for the night.”

Caleb bit back a groan, and behind Bendras Nott and Beau shared a look that said they knew they’d be there for another few hours at the least. Shooting a glance at Essek over his shoulder, he backpedalled away from them; if he couldn’t avoid getting questioned altogether, he sure as hell could procrastinate on it. He approached Essek, gaze flickering between him and the demon, who seemed to just be having a staring contest.

“She doesn’t look very happy. How long is this going to last?” he asked, eyeing the demon. She just sat there, firmly attached to her spot, though she stared at Essek like she wanted nothing more than to tear him into little magical bits.

“The next twenty-four hours, which should be more than enough time to relocate her; the inevitable interrogation will probably have to wait till a later date. I’ll have my hands full for the next two hours, though.”

Caleb glanced back towards Bendras and the Captain, who had already started talking to Fjord. “From the looks of it, so will we. We’re not used to being interview after we finish beating something up.”

A moment passed in companionable silence, and Essek gave him a knowing look. “I will find you as soon as I’m done here, I swear to you. I think we have a lot to discuss.”

“You don’t – you don’t have to,” Caleb said hurriedly, unconsciously wringing his hands together. “You’ll be shouldering a lot of responsibility, since security is your forte. If you don’t have the time–”

“I will be making time for you,” Essek interrupted gently but firmly. “And that is a threat as much as it is a promise. _Something_ has to go right tonight, or I’m going to lose my mind.”

Caleb chuckled, flicking his gaze from the others murmuring softly together to Essek. He seemed worn, yes, but he smiled with a kind of relieved stress; less concerned about everything going wrong all at once, and more bothered by the tedious work ahead of him.

“Fair enough,” Caleb granted him, and Nott waving her arms at him caught his attention. He nodded his head towards Isivir, who was still trying to decapitate Essek with her eyes. “I must go; good luck dealing with her. Try not to lose any limbs.”

“Only losing my limbs is one of the better case scenarios.”

Caleb smiled to himself, and it lingered on his features well after he’d turned away and approached Nott.

“I don’t know what’s happened since I pushed you into him, like, two hours ago,” she began as he drew near. “But based on that look on your face, I’m going to assume it was an excellent decision on my part.”

He laughed again, still unable to dampen his own mood. So, he probably looked like a lovestruck moron; considering they’d collaboratively saved the lives of hundreds of people, he figured he could allow himself that.

“A fantastic decision, as many of your decisions are,” he said, brushing a strand of hair away from where it had fallen into her face. She didn’t look as polished as she had before – her hair had come out of its updo, and soot stained the bottom of her dress grey – but she pulled it off pretty well.

“Thank you, thank you very much. If you want to ditch this whole interrogation thing to hang out with Essek, I can make a distraction.”

With what took more self-control than he was willing to admit, he shook his head. “No, they’ll notice before any time at all has passed. Anyway, are you hurt at all?”

“If you’re sure, then. And no, I’m okay; I’ve ruined my dress, but physically, I’m fine.”

“You probably have enough gold to buy it again three times over.”

“Hey!” They both turned, and saw Beau waving them over from where she’d been roped into a discussion with the Captain. “If I have to be interrogated about the last three hours, you guys aren’t getting out of it!”

“Looks like playtime’s over,” Caleb murmured to her, and Nott sighed dramatically. “Should you take the lead, or should I?”

“You go first; I need time to figure out an excuse for why I had a pocket for my crossbow sewn into my dress.”

Once more, he glanced over his shoulder at Essek, who had already been swamped by a dozen guards seeking instructions.

“Ja, good luck explaining that one.”

The air was quiet again, on the patio Caleb found himself on. A late night - or early morning, as it had become - breeze dragged its fingers through his hair, bringing with it the faint sounds of conversation from the gathered crowds outside the palace. It seemed that the celebrations had just moved outside after the palace had been evacuated, considering nobody had dispersed and everybody was still drinking; toasting to their continued health and to the Mighty Nein, in fact, even if their plan to deal with Isivir quietly had gone haywire. The building itself crawled with guards doing a security sweep and escorting the demon away to some holding area, all under Essek’s watchful instruction. How Essek was even still standing, let alone running around coordinating soldiers and convoys was an enigma to Caleb. Exhaustion clung to him, but the Captain was determined not to let them go until she’d wrung out of them every ounce of information she could. No doubt he’d be dragged back in there soon, to answer yet another round of questions – yes, she seemed normal when Jester was talking to her earlier; no, they hadn’t known Obann had connections within the Dens; yes, they had their weapons with them, but frankly that was nobody’s business but their own, thank you. But for a moment, he just stood and watched the cityscape, taking advantage of the lull.

Subtle sounds of movement behind him, and Essek said, “I would’ve thought by now that you’d be used to the view.”

Even without seeing him, Caleb could hear the smile in his tone. More movement, and a familiar warmth pressed slightly against his side. Caleb shifted so he had his back against the pillar, and could see him while they spoke. He had a strikingly beautiful profile; it was one of the first things Caleb had noticed about Essek, and it had never truly left him. High, well-sculpted cheekbones, a strong nose set above full lips Caleb probably spent too much time staring at, to be frank.

“Actually, I don’t think I’ll ever tire of the view,” Caleb murmured. Essek hummed, and turned to actually look at him; then, making eye contact, barked out a laugh.

“Oh, come on,” he chuckled, and he tips of his pointed ears went a darker purple. “Where did you learn that line, one of Jester’s novels?”

“Please, Jester’s lines are far worse than that,” Caleb countered, his gaze never faltering. Part of him revelled in it, being able to just watch without having to worry about being caught. He tried to memorise it, Essek’s smile; the way his eyes crinkled at the corners, the way he ducked his head slightly when he laughed, the little dimples that formed. If he were a painter, it would be all he’d ever paint for the rest of his life.

“I suppose I just can’t help myself.”

Essek didn’t immediately reply, though his flush did darken further. For a moment they just watched Rosohna’s skyline together.

“What’s been happening in there? I’m, ah, I’m too afraid of never escaping again if I go back in myself.”

Essek snorted. “If I might be so hopeful, I believe it might be winding down for the night. We’ll likely be getting back to it tomorrow, but we’re not going to be here until the moon goes down, at least.”

“_Wunderbar_. Good to know that we’re not going to die here.”

Another forty-three seconds of silence. Somewhere, somebody laughed uproariously, the sound echoing off the marble and glass of the palace.

“I think it’s now my turn to ask; what am I to you, Essek? What do you want me to be?”

Next to him, Essek considered the question a moment, head cocked to the side. Caleb burned to press, to hear the answer he knew was coming but needed to be said aloud anyway; but he said nothing, allowing him to fill the silence himself.

“Whatever you are willing to be to me, I will take it,” Essek eventually stated. Simple, straightforward, and devastating in the best way possible. “Whatever you are going to be – a stranger, a love, a friend – I don’t believe it matters anymore, because I don’t think I could change the way I feel for you if I tried. Whether we spend every day together for the rest of our lives, or if you leave and never contact me again, I think a large part of me would always be drawn to you.”

Caleb liked to believe he had quite impressive self-control; being able to prioritise, to place rational needs ahead of emotional wants in times that required it was a skill that many underestimated. And it was a skill that he made the executive decision to throw out the window entirely.

Caleb surged forward and pressed his lips against Essek’s in barely controlled fervour. He didn’t press, not yet; not before he knew Essek longed for it as much as he did. His lips were soft and velvety against his, just as he’d known they would be, setting his blood ablaze starting at the mouth. With a great deal of effort, he broke their kiss, though he couldn’t bring himself to move more than an inch or two away. He watched for Essek’s reaction – and gods, he was stunning with the moonlight reflecting off his eyes and hair and slightly wettened lips. Caleb had never wanted anything more in his life.

“So?” he breathed. Essek just stared at him for another instant, the only sounds being their shared breathing and the rustle of leaves in the wind –

\- and then Essek was moving, and their lips met again, and it put everything Caleb had ever hoped for or imagined late at night to shame. His eyes fluttered shut, until his entire word became just sensation. Essek fervently pushed closer, slotting his lips against Caleb’s like he was chasing the lingering taste of champagne on his tongue. Caleb’s hands found their way to his belt loops, pulling them flush against each other until there was not a spare inch between them.

With something bordering on desperation, Essek’s hands trailed up and down his sides, like he couldn’t decide on a place to put them, until eventually him wrapped his arms around Caleb’s neck. With a surge of adrenaline, Caleb spun them until Essek’s back pressed against the nearby pillar; they broke apart, briefly, and Essek made a noise in the back on his throat that set magma bubbling in the pits of Caleb’s stomach.

“Fuck, we could’ve been doing this the whole time,” Essek purred against his ear, then immediately returned his mouth to its rightful place of Caleb’s lips. Darting his tongue inside Essek’s mouth, he pressed him against the pillar more, again drawing out that delightful little sound that sent another pulse of heat through his entire being.

“Better make up for it now,” Caleb breathed, slipping his hands lower to grab at Essek’s ass and grind their hips together; at that, Essek smirked into the kiss. They’d waited too long to be shy now.

“Somebody’s going to walk out here,” Essek managed, as Caleb started nibbling down the line of his jaw. “And they’re going to – _fuck_ – see me compromised, and I’m never going to hear the end of it.”

For a moment, he was sorely tempted to throw caution to the wind, find the nearest solid wall, and go from there; but Essek was right, as usual. Explaining to the Bright Queen that he desperately wanted to get into her Shadowhand’s pants was not an interaction Caleb wanted to suffer through.

He stayed close, but broke away from his jaw and moved his hands to instead hook in the beltloops of Essek’s pants. Want had crossed too far into need for Caleb to be able to fully push himself away.

“Wow,” Caleb said eloquently; now that the moment had passed, the sudden courage had subsided slightly. “Are you able – I mean do you want to, ah, continue, or–”

“No, Caleb, I’m going to have the best kiss of my life and just leave,” Essek interrupted, tone dripping with fond sarcasm. “If it’s more privacy you’re after, then you might like to remember I live alone.”

A flush crept up Caleb’s neck and face. “Ah – give me a moment.”

Rifling through his coat – which had become rather mussed – he found his copper wire again, and sent the world’s most harried message to Nott: “_I’m leaving now. If you don’t hear from me at all tonight, just – don’t worry. And please don’t interrupt.”_

Seconds later, the very wry reply came. “_Have fun, Cay.”_

“Alright, we can go,” Caleb confirmed, slipping the wire back into his coat. “Which way from here do we go to–”

Wordlessly, Essek grabbed his arm, and the patio around them warped and disappeared; for a moment they were weightless, until gravity regained its grip, and they suddenly stood in a very dark hall. Only the vaguest shapes and outlines made themselves available to Caleb’s eyes, whatever visibility he had granted only by the light of Rosohna’s artificial moon. Hands reappeared on his waist, and he jumped slightly.

“Caleb? What’s wrong?” came Essek’s suddenly concerned voice, and those hands began to slip away; before Caleb grabbed them, trying to keep the dopey smile from his face and failing utterly.

“Nein, nein, it’s just – I don’t know where you are, it’s not bright enough in here for,” he laughed, and seconds later small lanterns dotted around them began to emit a soft glow. Sure enough, they stood together in the entranceway of Essek’s home, an area Caleb had found himself in only once before and under _very _different circumstances.

“Is that better?”

He took a moment to rake his eyes over Essek’s visage in the low light – his mussed hair and kiss-swollen lips, the heat that burned behind his eyes.

“Perfect. But, ah, we do not have to do this just because I kissed you,” Caleb clarified, anxiety suddenly stabbing through his gut.

“It wasn’t just you kissing me, thank you,” Essek correctly primly. “I’d like to think I was an active participant.”

Emboldened, Caleb again rested his hands on Essek’s waist. “You _would_ like to think so, hm?”

Something flickered in Essek’s eyes, something smouldering and forceful that had been there for so long, but Caleb just hadn’t been able to see it. In that moment, though, there was nothing he knew with more clarity.

Essek slipped a warm hand into his, leading him deeper into the house and past the section of wall that led to the study. Another hallway later – which was just too much, honestly, there were plenty of perfectly good walls they were passing that would’ve done just as well – and Essek pushed open a door of dark wood, finally drawing Caleb into another kiss as he did so. A small part of him was interested to see the room, but a much larger and much louder part was far more occupied with the tented front of Essek’s dress pants. Sliding a hand down the flat planes of Essek’s stomach, he reached to cup his hardening cock while nipping and licking at the soft skin of his neck, and _gods_ Essek really was making the most lovely sorts of sounds, wasn’t he?

“Tell me what you want,” Essek breathed, arching into his touch and gradually leading them to the bed at the far end of the room. “Please, anything.”

“I want,” Caleb began lowly, tugging open Essek’s shirt and running his fingers across his chest. “Whatever is going to cause you to keep making those noises. I have no preference.”

“Fuck me, then,” he said, low and sultry in his throat, and again heat flared between them. No further incentive required; Caleb began to tug off his layers with no care as to the amount of gold he’d spent on those clothes, dumping them on the floor as if they were as common as dirt. He didn’t have any attention to spare, not really, when he had Essek casually undressing right in front of him as if he weren’t the most unbelievably beautiful person Caleb had seen in his life.

Essek shoved off the rest of his own clothes and stretched out on the bed, just watching as Caleb finished and approached the bed. He slipped onto the bed and settled between his legs like he’d been made to be there, and immediately pulled Essek in for another kiss. This one was deeper, and messier, Caleb’s tongue immediately swiping into Essek’s mouth with more fervour than dexterity. Essek leaned back, and suddenly Caleb was on top of him, mouths locked and hands wandering. Absently, he trailed his calloused fingers over a dark nipple, and Essek groaned deep in his throat. Caleb smirked into the kiss.

“Where do you want me?”

Essek’s eyes fluttered open, taking a second to refocus on Caleb’s features. “Please, touch me.”

When he asked so nicely, how was Caleb supposed to refuse? A trail of kisses and bites led down Essek’s chest and stomach, allowing Caleb to feel the heightened beat of his heart through his mouth. It was odd, being able to feel the affect he was having with his own senses. He felt no body hair on the way down, a stark contrast to the dark reddish hair smattered across Caleb’s own chest and stomach.

A thatch of white hair encircled Essek’s cock, barely brushing against Caleb’s face as he dipped down to kiss and suck at the soft skin of his inner thigh. Essek fisted his hands into the sheets.

He couldn’t resist it, teasing him a little bit; he left a hickey on the inside of his thigh, getting close to the length of his erection but never quite there. Every breath, sigh and curse Essek let out was a holy prayer in Caleb’s ears, and only spurred him on.

“Caleb, come on, please,” Essek panted, arching his back in an attempt to garner any sort of friction. Finally, Caleb broke; he traced his tongue up along the underside of Essek’s cock, relishing in the way he thrusted upwards slightly. A heady sense of power overcame him; _he_ was doing this, _he_ was making Essek writhe and thrust and feel good beneath him.

A droplet of precome dribbled from the head, and Caleb licked it off, finally taking the tip of his cock into his mouth and slowly working it with his lips and tongue. Dark fingers threaded themselves through his hair, clenched tight enough to be pleasant and grounding but not enough to be painful

“Yes, please, that’s it,” Essek breathed, still thrusting up to meet him. Caleb settled into a steady rhythm, gradually dipping further and further down as he prepared his throat. Essek keened, his head thrown back against the pillow and a flush high on his face. When he almost got to the base, just barely managing not to choke, he drew off, instead bobbing on his cock and working him with hollowed cheeks and a deft tongue.

“Wait, not yet,” Essek choked out, watching his every movement. With a filthy pop, Caleb slid his mouth off from around his length. “Let me kiss you, I need to–”

Caleb surged up to meet his mouth, letting the heat in his stomach and the lightness in his head take over. It was messy, and uncoordinated, and the best thing Caleb had ever experienced. On the end table Essek grabbed for something, returning with a small vial which Caleb took. Almost feverishly he pulled the stopper off, rubbing slick onto one hand and reach between them.

He wrapped a hand around them both, running up and down their lengths experimentally a few times. Involuntarily, Caleb jerked his hips forwards, blessed relief filling him and spurring him on. Throwing his head back on the pillow, Essek just watched him through half-lidded eyes, panting slightly. He worked his calloused hand in an impassioned rhythm, every pump and glide of skin sending Caleb further to the edge. And he could taste it almost, could taste the release coming closer like a spring wound almost to breaking.

“Caleb, I’m close,” Essek panted into his ear. “Fuck, do you know how many times I’ve thought about this? About you? I have never wanted anyone as badly as I want you.”

“You have me,” he replied breathlessly, and drew him into another kiss as he grinded down into Essek and his own fist. A strangled moan escaped Essek, rumbling in Caleb’s own chest, and he grabbed at his waist, pulling him even closer in a desperate dash for pleasure. Every breath he drew was music to Caleb’s ears.

He shuddered, arching his back, and with a strangled whine of Caleb’s name he spilled himself, warmth suddenly coating his hand and stomach. The perfect part to his lips, the way his eyes scrunched shut; it was all too much, and white-hot sensation coursed through Caleb as he came into his fist only a few seconds later.

For a moment, he couldn’t find the will to move; could only hold himself above Essek, both panting. He pressed a much gentler kiss to Essek’s jaw, burying his face in his neck as they both came down off the high. A few deep breaths, and he moved to lay beside him, staring at the ceiling in some mixture of _holy shit did that just happen_ and if that happened it was the best fuck I’ve ever had.

In the corner of his eye, Essek waved a hand, and the rapidly cooling stickiness on his hand and stomach disappeared into nothing. Caleb managed a breathless snort.

“Useful,” he murmured, rolling over onto his stomach. Wordlessly, Essek pressed against him with a leg hooked over him.

“I do try.”

The idea of sleep was tantalising; already, he could feel the drag of exhaustion from the long night return tenfold. One more thing, though, before he could sleep easy.

“Essek?”

He hummed, probably already half-asleep – or whatever it was elves did instead. With what seemed like a great deal of effort, he opened his eyes again. “Yes?”

“You danced very well, tonight.”

Essek huffed a sleepy laugh, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Thank you, Caleb. I had an excellent teacher.”

Caleb rolled his eyes. “You’re incredibly welcome. So, can we consider that little debt I owed you paid?”

“I suppose so,” he mused, closing his eyes again. “Though I believe there are a variety of debts you and your friends owe me. Perhaps you’d better keep teaching me, to even the scores.”

Just before sleep took him, Caleb laughed. “Consider it done.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow. thank all of you so, so much for reading; this has been my first multi-chapter fic, and by god has it been a wild fuckin ride. constructive criticism or pointing out typos is always very welcome. if you guys have any prompts for future fics (beaujester, perhaps?) come scream at me on tumblr: higgity-heck  
:3


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